THE  SCIENCE  SERIES. 


1.  The  Study  of  Man. — By  A.  C.  HADDON. 

2.  The  Groundwork  of  Science.— By  ST.  GEORGE 

MIVART. 

3.  Rivers  of  North  America.     By  ISRAEL  C.  RUS- 

SELL. 


G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS,  NEW  YORK  &  LONDON 


ZTbe  Science  Series 

EDITED    BY 

professor  3.  QbcTkecn  Gattell,  /TO.H.,  pb.H). 


THE  GROUNDWORK  OF 
SCIENCE 


THE    GROUNDWORK 
OF    SCIENCE     S2 

A  STUDY   OF   EPISTEMOLOGY 


BY 

ST.  GEORGE  MIVART 

V  4 

M.D.,  PH.D.,  F.R.S. 


NEW   YORK 

G.  P.  PUTNAM'S   SONS 

LONDON 

BLISS,  SANDS,  &  CO. 
1898 


COPYRIGHT,  1898 

BY 
G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 


ftnicfterbocfeer  preas,  Hew  li;orb 


PREFACE 

WE  have  again  and  again  been  impressed  by  the  ready 
disposition  of  men  whose  views  and  opinions  are 
most  opposed,  to  agree  in  accepting  as  certain,  things  which 
are  by  no  means  evident,  and  in  adopting  conclusions  as 
proved,  which  are  by  no  means  the  only  consequences  that 
follow  from  conceded  premisses.  Our  great  object,  there- 
fore, in  this  little  volume,  is  to  represent  nothing  as  certain 
which  does  not  appear  to  us  to  be  really  evident,  and  yet 
not  to  shrink  from  upholding  as  true  whatever,  in  our  judg- 
ment, possesses  the  highest  conceivable  evidence. 

It  has  been  our  constant  care  to  be  impartial  and,  above 
all,  to  allow  no  consideration  not  purely  scientific — no  an- 
ticipations as  to  possible  consequences — to  influence  us  in 
the  conclusions  which  our  judgment  has  led  us  to  form. 
Our  appeal  throughout  has  been  to  the  dry  light  of  reason, 
and  to  that  alone.  Not  so  to  act;  to  allow  any  kind  of 
prejudice,  any  non-scientific  consideration,  to  influence  us 
in  such  a  task  as  an  endeavour  to  investigate  the  ground- 
work of  science,  would  be  both  treason  to  science  and  a 
betrayal  of  the  cause  of  philosophy. 

But  it  is  possible  that  to  some  persons  the  title  of  this  book 
may  prove  a  rock  of  offence,  namely,  persons  disposed  to 
doubt  whether  its  object  can  be  by  any  possibility  attain- 
able. "  Is  there,"  they  may  ask,  "  anything  which  can 
really  merit  the  name  of  a  '  groundwork  of  science  ' ;  and, 


iv  PREFACE 

should  there  be  such  a  thing,  can  a  knowledge  of  it  be  really 
attainable  by  us  ?  " 

To  this  question  the  answer  appears  to  be  that  some 
groundwork  of  science  there  must  be.  For  no  one  can  deny 
that  science  exists,  and  this  is  obtrusively  evident  in  our  own 
time,  when  we  are  witnessing  the  closing  days  of  an  age 
which  has  been  conspicuous  beyond  all  others  for  scientific 
progress.  Now,  any  science  which  we  may  select  for  con- 
sideration will  be  found  to  consist  of  some  truths  which  are 
the  results  of  other  truths  antecedently  ascertained,  whether 
the  latter  have  served  as  incentives  to  more  patient  and 
careful  observations  and  experiments,  or  whether  the  ante- 
cedent truths  have  served  as  premisses  from  which  the  newer 
truths  have  been  logically  inferred.  These  primitive  and 
fundamental  truths  of  the  science  selected,  together  with  the 
efforts  made  to  ascertain  and  establish  them,  must  be  allowed 
to  form  the  groundwork  of  that  particular  science.  And  as 
every  science  must  possess  such  primitive  and  fundamental 
truths,  there  must  be  a  groundwork  of  science  generally, 
even  if  it  consists  only  of  a  collection  of  all  the  fundamental 
truths  of  all  the  several  sciences. 

But  can  there  be  one  common  groundwork  for  all  the 
sciences  from  logic  to  geology,  however  diverse  may  be  their 
several  subject-matters  ?  It  might  be  supposed  that  such 
there  cannot  be,  the  sciences  being  so  numerous  and  diverse. 
Nevertheless,  there  is  one  point  which  is  common  to  them 
all.  However  numerous  and  diverse  the  sciences  may  be, 
they  all  agree  in  having  been  developed  by  one  kind  of 
energy,  namely,  that  of  the  human  mind.  And,  indeed, 
after  putting  on  one  side  all  the  differences  which  have 
arisen  from  diversities  of  culture  (qualitative  and  quanti- 
tative), of  energy,  and  of  industry,  there  is  a  general  and 
fundamental  unity  in  human  capacity.  The  sciences  there- 
fore being  many  and  diverse,  while  the  nature  of  the  energy 


PREFACE  v 

applied  to  their  investigation  is  essentially  one,  it  is  evident 
that  the  groundwork  of  science  must  be  sought  in  the  human 
mind,  and  in  the  mind  of  each  individual  man  who  applies 
himself  to  its  study — the  study  of  Epistemology.1 

Now  the  mind  of  each  one  of  us  is,  during  our  waking 
hours,  ceaselessly  active,  but  active  in  very  different  ways. 
We  may  be  vaguely  conscious  of  our  existence  while 
listening  to  some  sweet  melody' which  entrances  us  with  its 
charm.  We  may  be  enjoying  the  freshness  of  the  air  and 
the  augmenting  brightness  of  the  sun  of  a  summer's  day, 
hardly  aware  of  undefined  thoughts  passing  through  our 
mind.  We  may  be  anxiously  longing  for  the  arrival  of  a 
friend  whom  we  impatiently  expect,  or  dreading  the  delay 
in  his  arrival  as  foreboding  evil.  We  may  be  dwelling  in 
fancy  over  events  of  days  gone  by,  or  looking  forward  to  the 
future  fruition  of  a  hope  long  entertained.  We  may  be 
simultaneously  applying  our  senses  of  sight  and  touch  to  as- 
certain the  shape  and  structure  of  some  material  object — a 
feather,  a  shell,  or  a  work  of  art.  We  may  be  carrying  out 
a  piece  of  deductive  reasoning,  or  we  may  be  reflecting  upon 
what  we  are  about,  and  making  sure  we  know,  suspect,  or 
doubt  what  we  are  actually  cognising,  suspecting,  or  doubt- 
ing. But  if  we  happen  to  be  engaged  in  the  study  and 
pursuit  of  science,  we  must  be  aware  of  what  we  are  doing, 
and,  at  least  occasionally,  reflect  upon  our  perceptions. 

Therefore,  once  more,  the  groundwork  of  science  must  be 
sought  for  in  the  human  mind — in  our  own  mind — when 
cognising  scientific  truths;  especially  those  deemed  most 
certain  and  far-reaching.  And  such  truths  cannot  be  truths 
obtained  by  reasoning,  and  cannot  depend  for  their  certainty 
on  any  experiments  or  observations  alone.  Such  is  mani- 
festly the  case,  since  whatever  truth  depends  on  reasoning 
cannot  be  ultimate,  but  must  be  posterior  to,  and  depend 

/,  understanding,  and  AoyoS,  a  discourse. 


vi  PREFACE 

upon,  the  principles,  experiments,  or  observations  which 
show  us  that  it  is  indeed  true,  and  upon  which  its  accept- 
ance thus  depends ;  while  the  reflex  certainty  of  observations 
and  experiments  themselves  also  implies  the  recognition 
of  fundamental  intellectual  perceptions.  Therefore,  the 
groundwork  of  science  must  be  composed  of  facts  and  of 
truths  which  carry  with  them  their  own  evidence — which 
are  self-evident — together  with  our  own  mental  activity  in 
reflecting  upon  and  recognising  such  propositions  as  being 
the  self-evident  truths  they  are.  Amongst  such  truths  (as 
we  shall  hereafter  see)  must  be  that  of  our  continued  exist- 
ence  from  day  to  day,  and  the  certainty  that  we  cannot  at 
the  same  time  continue  to  exist  and  yet  cease  to  be,  with 
others  of  similar  nature.  Such  truths,  it  will  be  sought  to 
show,  cannot  be  really  doubted  without  mental  paralysis 
and  self-stultification,  for  complete  scepticism,  as  absolutely 
and  necessarily  self-destructive,  is  impossible  for  us.  This 
assertion  our  readers  are  now  asked  to  accept  provisionally 
for  what  it  may  be  worth,  as  full  treatment  of  this  and 
kindred  subjects  will  find  its  place  in  the  eighth  chapter. 
They  cannot  be  fully  treated  earlier,  because  before  begin- 
ning to  consider  those  fundamental  questions,  regarded  as 
most  essential  elements  of  the  groundwork  of  science,  the 
way  must  be  cleared  for  their  due  appreciation  by  a  prelim- 
inary consideration  of  the  various  intellectual  structures  (the 
sciences) — the  foundations  common  to  the  whole  of  which 
it  is  the  purpose  of  this  book  to  point  out. 

At  the  commencement,  therefore,  it  appears  incumbent 
on  us,  after  considering  what  science  is  and  of  what  it  must 
consist,  to  call  attention  to  certain  elementary  facts  and  dis- 
tinctions without  which  it  seems  impossible  to  follow  up  any 
intellectual  inquiry:  such  facts,  e.  g.,  are  (in  our  opinion) 
the  essential  nature  both  of  our  ideas  and  the  words  we 
make  use  of  to  express  them. 


PREFA  CE  vii 

Obviously,  without  an  adequate  acquaintance  with  the 
nature  of  our  ideas  no  one  can  hope  to  succeed  in  a  task  an 
important  part  of  which  consists  in  the  analysis  of  mental 
conceptions.  What  factors,  therefore,  co-operate  in  their 
elicitation,  and  the  nature  of  such  factors,  the  shares  they 
respectively  take,  and  the  rank  of  each  in  ideation,  are 
preliminary  matters  which  must  be  noted  at  the  very  com- 
mencement of  this  book.  Similarly,  no  one  can  arrive  at 
even  a  provisional  conclusion  with  respect  to  any  merely 
initial  problem  unless  he  can  be  satisfied  that  there  is  some 
criterion  of  truth  and  that  he  can  avail  himself  of  it.  To 
these  first  steps  towards  an  understanding  of  the  ground- 
work of  science,  the  earlier  portion  of  this  book  must,  it 
appears  to  us,  be  exclusively  devoted. 

But  in  order  to  explore  the  groundwork  of  all  science,  it 
seems  reasonable  that  the  reader's  attention  should  also  be 
called  to  the  different  kinds  of  systematic  and  organised  in- 
quiry— the  different  sciences  about  which  men's  minds  have 
been  hitherto  occupied — their  number,  nature,  and  the 
various  degrees  of  affinity  and  relationship  existing  between 
them,  etc.  But  before  we  can  take  another  step  forwards 
we  shall  find  our  progress  arrested  by  the  idealists.  It  is 
true  that  we  hear  it  said  that  all  the  physical  sciences  can 
be  pursued  and  taught  as  well  on  the  idealistic  hypothesis, 
as  on  that  view  concerning  a  real,  external,  independent 
world  existing  on  all  sides,  which  is  entertained  by  all  men 
who  are  not  idealists.  This  we  regard  as  true  for  one  reason 
only  :  the  reason,  namely,  that  nature  is  too  strong  for  ideal- 
ism, and  that  no  man  can  be  always  a  consistent  idealist, 
least  of  all  students  and  adepts  in  physical  science,  who  are 
continually  recognising  in  thought  and  speech,  and  are  con- 
stantly occupied  about,  certain  bodies  acting  and  interacting 
upon  other  bodies,  not  only  quite  without  regard  to  their 
own  perceptions  (which  need  not  be  adverted  to  as  being 


viii  PREFACE 

such),  but  with  an  implied  perception  of  substantial  exist- 
ences, underlying  and  utterly  different  from  any  plexuses 
of  feelings.  If  we  shall  be  compelled  to  admit  that  ideal- 
ism is  true,  we  shall  have  to  admit  also  that  the  groundwork 
of  science  is  indeed  mental,  in  a  very  different  sense  from 
that  in  which  we  and  most  other  men  have  taken  it  to  be. 
Moreover,  for  our  own  part,  we  should  then  feel  that  the 
authority  and  certainty  of  other  seemingly  self-evident 
truths  were  gravely  compromised,  especially  if  a  truth  ap- 
parently so  self-evident  as  the  existence  of  our  own  body 
(as  we  and  most  men  understand  that  body  to  exist)  were 
but  a  delusion  and  self-deception  of  the  mind.  But  al- 
though, even  then,  the  most  fundamental  truths  of  all 
would  still,  for  us,  remain  evident  and  unimpaired  in  their 
certainty,  it  nevertheless  appears  to  us  to  be  incumbent  on 
anyone  who  desires  to  study  Epistemology,  to  enter  upon  a 
serious  inquiry  as  to  the  truth  of  idealism. 

An  inquiry  respecting  a  system  which  has  been  adopted, 
and  is  maintained,  by  so  many  men  of  eminence,  not  only 
in  philosophy  but  in  physical  science  also,  can  evidently  be 
no  light  task;  yet  it  must  be  undertaken  and  idealism  ac- 
cepted or  rejected  before  further  progress  is  possible.  If 
such  an  inquiry  were  neglected  the  groundwork  of  science 
would,  we  think,  have  to  remain  for  the  student  a  problem 
unsolved  and  (till  this  has  been  finally  decided  one  way  or 
the  other)  insoluble. 

The  inquirer,  having  become  once  convinced  of  the  real 
existence  of  an  external  independent  world  of  "  things  in 
themselves  "  should,  we  think,  have  his  attention  next 
called  to  the  modes  and  methods  wherewith  science  deals 
with  the  objects  it  investigates,  in  order  to  ascertain,  as  far 
as  he  may,  what  assumptions  and  convictions  are  implied  in, 
and  by,  and  are  necessary  for,  all  and  any  scientific  research. 
This  appears  to  us  a  desirable,  if  not  an  absolutely  neces- 


PREFA  CE  ix 

sary,  preliminary,  because  assumptions  and  convictions 
which  are  indispensable  for  the  carrying  on  of  science  must 
be  more  or  less  closely  connected  with  the  groundwork 
thereof.  Such  an  introductory  inquiry,  however,  should, 
we  think,  be  made  only  in  order  to  ascertain  what  are  the 
necessary  implications  of  science,  the  question  as  to  the 
objective  truth  of  such  necessary  implications  finding  its 
place  (as  before  said)  later  on,  namely,  towards  the  climax 
of  our  inquiry.  These  implications  cannot  but  be  very 
nearly  related  to  questions  concerning  our  highest  mental 
faculties.  Such  must  be  the  case,  since  science,  in  the 
widest  sense  of  that  word  (including  even  the  science  of 
sciences,  or  metaphysics),  requires  for  its  satisfactory  pro- 
secution the  employment  of  our  very  noblest  powers,  and  it 
is  by  them  alone  that  we  can  hope  to  attain  a  knowledge  of 
the  most  supreme  and  ultimate  truths  which  our  intellectual 
faculties  have  the  power  to  apprehend. 

On  this  account,  before  entering  upon  our  final  inquiry  as 
to  what  it  is  which  constitutes  the  groundwork  of  science, 
we  must  study  the  nature  and  power  of  what  seem  to  be  our 
highest  faculties;  but  this  we  cannot  usefully  proceed  to 
do  till  we  have  taken  cognisance  of  our  ordinary  mental 
powers,  upon  the  pre-existence  and  exercise  of  which  the 
possibility  of  such  higher  faculties  depends.  But,  again,  it 
is  obvious  that  our  ordinary  mental  powers,  our  emotions, 
our  feelings,  and  the  actions  which  thence  result,  are  abso- 
lutely dependent  on  our  bodily  capacities,  and  our  bodily 
powers  are  not  less  entirely  dependent  upon  our  corporeal 
structure. 

Therefore,  in  order  duly  to  comprehend  our  highest  in- 
tellectual faculties,  we  needs  must  begin  with  a  consideration 
of  at  least  some  points  in  the  construction  of  the  human 
body — especially  that  of  such  parts  as  minister  to  feeling  in 
general,  and  to  our  special  senses,  such  as  sight  and  hearing. 


X  PREFACE 

But  to  appreciate  what  the  human  body  is,  it  is  necessary, 
since  nothing  can  be  understood  by  itself,  to  learn  some- 
thing also  about  other  animals,  so  that  we  may  know  what 
is  the  place  occupied  in  nature  by  that  living  body  of  ours 
which  possesses  powers  and  attributes  so  wonderful.  But  a 
mere  study  of  structure — of  anatomy — can  serve  but  to 
supply  us  with  a  knowledge  of  the  material  elements  indis- 
pensable to  human  thought  and  feeling.  We  must  also, 
therefore,  acquire  some  knowledge  as  to  how  the  various 
parts  and  organs  of  the  body  act  during  its  life,  and  how 
that  life  is  maintained,  how  the  body  is  formed  and  nour- 
ished, and  how,  if  need  be,  injuries  that  it  may  suffer  are 
repaired.  The  living  energy  of  the  body,  apart  from  the 
feelings  and  sentiments  to  which  it  may  give  rise,  requires 
to  be  understood  in  a  certain  degree  before  we  advance  to 
the  consideration  of  our  feelings  and  sentiments  themselves. 
Such  an  elementary  acquaintance  with  both  anatomy  and 
physiology  will  serve  to  pave  the  way  for  our  entrance  upon 
the  first  stage  of  our  proper  subject,  namely,  the  study  of 
the  human  mind  in  its  ultimate  pursuit  of  science.  In  the 
first  stage  of  this  psychological  inquiry,  it  will  be  necessary 
to  consider  what  our  own  intellect  tells  us  concerning  the 
various  kinds  and  orders  of  psychical  activity  whereof  our 
total  mental  life  is  made  up.  It  is  evidently  desirable  to 
ascertain  what,  if  any,  psychical  activities  besides  sensation 
are  most  closely  connected  therewith,  what  are  most  allied 
in  nature  to  our  unconscious  energies,  and  whether  by  the 
aid  of  reflection,  memory,  and  inference,  we  can  detect  the 
existence  of  psychical  states  of  which  we  were  unconscious 
when  they  were  being  actually  carried  on.  Evidently,  it  will 
also  be  desirable  to  ascertain,  if  possible,  whether  in  the 
absence  of  consciousness  we  possess  any  other  central  and 
unifying  psychical  faculty,  and,  if  so,  what  are  its  utmost 
powers  and  capabilities.  Very  special  attention  also  needs 


PREFACE 


XI 


to   be   given    to    the   consideration  of  the   phenomena   of 
instinct. 

But  as  idealists  appear  to  bar  the  way  to  what,  for  all  but 
themselves,  can  alone  lead  to  a  satisfactory  Epistemology,  so 
a  distinguished  school  of  naturalists  oppose  an  analogous, 
though  very  different,  obstacle  to  our  even  entertaining  a 
reasonable  hope  that  we  may  be  able  to  see  and  comprehend 
what  are  and  must  be  the  foundations  of  science. 

What  confidence,  it  has  been  asked,  can  we  place  in  the 
declaration  of  an  ape's  mind  ?  Now  we  by  no  means  admit 
that  were  the  human  intellect  and  the  highest  powers  of 
brutes  really  of  one  kind  (so  that  the  essential  rationality  of 
animals  was  simply  restrained  by  circumstances  from  making 
itself  manifest),  any  valid  ground  for  distrusting  truths, 
which  to  us  are  self-evident,  would  thence  arise.  On  the 
contrary,  instead  of  giving  us  good  reasons  for  such  distrust, 
it  would  but  supply  us  with  an  amply  sufficient  motive  for 
an  enormously  increased  regard  for  what  we  might  certainly 
then,  with  reason,  call  our  "  poor  relations."  What  seems 
to  us  to  be  clear  and  indisputably  evident  in  and  by  itself, 
and  what  reason  demonstrates  absolutely,  can  be  none  the 
less  true  on  account  of  its  cause  and  origin,  or  the  mode  in 
which  it  may  have  become  manifest.  It  is  plain  that  in  our 
own  case  the  truths  which  are  for  us  most  certain  must 
have  been  gained  through  the  evolution  and  development 
s  of  psychical  power  latent  in  the  mind  of  an  unconscious  in- 
fant, which  once  showed  no  sign  whatever  of  rationality. 
Why  then  should  we  distrust  the  dictates  of  a  mind  evolved 
from  creatures  which,  though  giving  no  evidence  of  actual 
rationality,  afford  us  far  more  signs  of  cognitive  energy  than 
does  the  child  for  some  time  after  its  birth  ? 

Nevertheless,  since  there  are  so  many  persons  who  do  feel 
a  sceptical  distrust  of  their  reason  on  account  of  the  source 
from  whence  they  believe  it  to  have  had  its  origin,  it  will, 


xii  PREFACE 

we  think,  be  most  advisable  to  consider  carefully  the  ques- 
tion whether  or  not  there  seems  to  be  a  difference  of  kind 
between  the  highest  psychical  energy  found  present  in  the 
brute  and  the  intellect  of  man.  This  is  simply  a  question 
of  fact. 

Now,  since  man  certainly  possesses,  besides  his  intellect, 
the  sensitivity,  faculty  of  sense-association,  desires,  emo- 
tions, instincts,  and  powers  of  emotional  manifestation  with 
which  the  higher  animals  are  endowed,  it  will  be  incumbent 
on  us  to  ascertain  whether  man's  lower  mental  faculties,  with- 
out the  exercise  of  conscious  intellect,  will  not  suffice  to  ex- 
plain all  the  various  more  or  less  intelligent  actions  which 
mere  animals  display.  Should  such  turn  out  to  be  the  case, 
and  should  both  the  positive  and  negative  evidence  concern- 
ing rationality  concur  in  affirming  that  there  is  no  need  to 
attribute  intellect  to  animals,  then  it  must  be  admitted  that 
a  difference  of  kind  is  thereby  demonstrated  to  exist  be- 
tween them  and  ourselves.  But  there  is  one  other  question 
which  requires  very  special  care  in  its  examination.  It  is 
plain  that,  as  a  rule,  all  men  speak  while  animals  are  dumb. 
A  special  consideration  is  therefore  demanded  for  language. 
If  it  should  prove  that  we  have  two  sets  of  faculties  (higher 
and  lower),  have  we  also  two  corresponding  modes  of  ex- 
pression ?  It  is  plain  that  we  and  animals  make  signs.  It 
will  be  necessary,  therefore,  carefully  to  inquire  and  distin- 
guish as  to  what  a  sign  really  is,  and,  if  there  are  different 
kinds  of  signs,  what  relation  they  bear  to  the  intellect  ?  It 
will  be  further  most  necessary  to  examine  the  relations  which 
exist  between  gestures  and  vocal  expressions,  and,  above  all, 
the  relations  which  both  of  these  bear  to  thought  and  to  the 
faculty  of  forming  and  communicating  abstract  ideas,  and 
the  perception  of  relations  as  such.  But  that  we  may  not, 
through  neglect,  underestimate  the  psychical  powers  of 
animals,  it  will  be  well  to  pass  in  review  some  of  the  more 


PREFACE  xiii 

striking  anecdotes  of  animal  intelligence  in  both  the  lower 
and  higher  classes  of  the  animal  kingdom.  Remarkably 
divergent  forms  of  speech  of  both  infants  and  savages  would 
likewise  seem  to  require  some  notice,  as  also  the  question  as 
to  the  origin  of  speech. 

If  the  result  of  this  somewhat  prolonged  inquiry  should  be 
a  conviction  that  between  the  highest  psychical  powers  of 
men  and  animals  there  is  a  difference  of  kind — a  difference 
absolute  and  not  consisting  of  degrees  of  difference — it 
would  then  be  a  question  whether  such  a  breach  of  con- 
tinuity, such  a  new  departure,  stands  alone,  or  whether  there 
are  others,  analogous  sudden  interruptions,  to  be  met  with 
in  nature  ?  If  we  become  convinced  that  it  is  an  unques- 
tionable fact  that  there  are  other  breaches  of  continuity — 
such,  for  example,  as  between  the  inorganic  and  organic 
worlds  and  between  insentient  and  sentient  organisms — then 
a  priori  probability  will  become  thereby  established  in  favour 
of  a  breach  of  continuity  between  merely  sentient  animality 
and  the  rational  animality  of  man. 

All  these  introductory  inquiries  (as  to  the  conditions  nec- 
essary for  the  existence  of  science;  as  to  idealism  ;  as  to 
what  science  implies  ;  as  to  both  physical  and  psychical 
antecedents  of  science;  and  as  to  the  place  in  nature  of  the 
human  intellect)  having  been  disposed  of,  we  shall  next  have 
to  examine  into  our  own  highest  intellectual  powers.  In 
beginning  that  examination,  existing  circumstances,  and 
the  prevalent  prejudices  of  the  day,  compel  us  expressly 
to  consider  the  bearing  upon  our  estimate  as  to  the  rank 
and  value  of  our  own  mental  powers,  of  the  widely  ac- 
cepted doctrine  of  "  natural  selection."  If  we  come  to 
recognise  that  we  are  in  the  possession  of  self-evident 
truths  which  could  never  have  given  their  possessors  an 
improved  chance  of  survival,  then  it  is  clear  that  our 
apprehension  of  such  truths  could  never  have  been  gained 


xiv  PREFA  CE 

by  "  natural  selection,"  but  must  be  altogether  independ- 
ent thereof. 

But  it  is  evidently  necessary,  in  order  to  decide  this  ques- 
tion, that  we  should  be  acquainted  with  those  of  our  powers 
which  we  might  expect  to  be  least  dependent  on  "  natural 
selection,"  and  for  this  it  will  be  necessary  to  revert  (once 
more,  and  more  fully)  to  the  questions  of  certainty  and  of 
what  must  be,  if  anything  can  be,  its  criterion.  This,  again, 
will  necessarily  lead  us  to  examine  more  carefully  the  pos- 
sible self-evidence  of  propositions,  the  knowledge  of  our 
own  existence,  and  the  trustworthiness  of  memory  as  vouch- 
ing for  such  existence  in  the  past. 

Then,  also,  if  we  conclude  jt  to  be  true  that  we  can  know 
objects  of  knowledge  as  they  exist  objectively  (or  in  them- 
selves) the  problem  of  the  special  relation  which  must,  in 
that  case,  exist  between  "  subject  "  and  "  object,"  will 
have  to  be  investigated.  The  decision  of  this  question  will 
naturally  lead  us  to  a  further  investigation  of  first  principles 
underlying  all  our  reasoning,  what  they  are,  and  whether 
we  can  attain  to  an  evident  and  logical  adjustment  of  truths. 
Amongst  the  most  important  of  such  principles,  and  one 
about  which  the  most  vigorous  disputations  have  taken 
place,  is  the  principle  of  causation.  The  truth  and  validity 
of  this  principle,  if  it  can  once  be  established,  have  evidently 
most  important  consequences  bearing  upon  the  cause  and 
origin  of  our  own  intuitions,  and  upon  the  existence,  quali- 
ties, and  powers  of  the  entire  cosmos.  Here  the  theory  of 
"  natural  selection  "  again  courts  our  notice  ;  and  its 
bearing  on  the  living  world  will  have  to  be  considered  in 
the  light  derived  from  that  far  larger  and  more  enduring 
world,  which  is  inorganic  and  lifeless.  The  question  con- 
cerning the  significance  of  human  faculty  as  a  part  of  the 
universe  will  come  next,  and  bring  to  a  conclusion  all  but 
the  main  question  to  be  dealt  with. 


PREFACE  XV 

When,  in  our  final  chapter,  we  have  to  apply  ourselves 
directly  to  that  main  question,  in  the  light  derived  from  the 
various  preceding  investigations,  the  groundwork  of  science 
will,  we  are  persuaded,  be  found  to  consist  of  three  divisions : 
the  labourers  who  work,  the  tools  they  must  employ,  and 
that  which  constitutes  the  field  of  their  labour.  Taking 
the  last  first,  it  will,  we  think,  appear  that  the  matter  of 
science  is  partly  physical  and  partly  psychical.  In  relation 
with  the  former,  questions  concerning  the  various  physical 
energies,  matter,  motion,  space,  and  time  must  be  noted, 
and  an  inquiry  made  as  to  the  value  of  a  mechanical  theory 
of  the  universe,  and  the  reasons  why  it  is  so  commonly  ac- 
ceptable. Next  must  come  some  reference  to  the  tools 
which  must  be  made  use  of,  namely,  those  first  principles 
and  universal,  necessary,  self-evident  truths  which  lie,  so 
frequently  unnoticed,  within  the  human  intellect,  and  which 
are  absolutely  indispensable  for  valid  reasoning.  Finally, 
the  nature  of  the  workers  themselves  must  also  be  noticed, 
as  necessarily  affecting  the  value  of  their  work;  and,  last  of 
all,  a  few  words  must  be  devoted  to  the  question  whether 
there  is  any,  and,  if  any,  what,  foundation  underlying  the 
whole  groundwork  of  science,  and  giving  support  and 
validity  to  that  entire  conception  of  the  universe  which  an 
impartial  study  of  the  phenomena  it  exhibits  may  have  led 
us  to  regard  as  alone  consonant  with  the  dictates  of  reason. 

ST.  G.  M. 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

PREFACE         .'»''•''...        .        .        .  iii 


CHAPTER  I 
INTRODUCTORY 


CHAPTER  II 
AN  ENUMERATION  OF  THE  SCIENCES  16 


CHAPTER  III 

\  \ 

THE  OBJECTS  OF  SCIENCE 34 


CHAPTER  IV 
THE  METHODS  OF  SCIENCE 89 

CHAPTER  V 
THE  PHYSICAL  ANTECEDENTS  OF  SCIENCE  ......      108 

CHAPTER  VI 
THE  PSYCHICAL  ANTECEDENTS  OF  SCIENCE         .....       137 

CHAPTER  VII 

LANGUAGE  AND  SCIENCE  .      186 


xviii  CONTENTS 

PAGE 

CHAPTER  VIII 
INTELLECTUAL  ANTECEDENTS  OF  SCIENCE   .        .        „        .        .        .215 

CHAPTER  IX 
CAUSES  'OF  SCIENTIFIC  KNOWLEDGE 255 

CHAPTER  X 
THE  NATURE  OF  THE  GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE       ....      296 


THE  GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 


THE 
GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 


CHAPTER  I 
IN  TROD  UCTOR  Y 

THE  century  now  so  near  its  close  has  been  distinguished 
from  all  preceding  centuries  by  the  rapid,  varied,  and 
continuous  progress  in  science  that  it  has  witnessed.  An 
interest  in,  and  a  real  love  for,  science  have  by  degrees 
ceased  to  be  confined  to  a  limited  society  of  experts,  and 
have  happily  become  diffused  far  and  wide  amongst  all 
classes  of  society. 

The  scientific  spirit  is,  above  all,  an  inquiring  spirit.  It 
can  never  rest  satisfied  with  what  has  become  known,  but 
must  ever  press  on  in  all  directions  into  fields  of  truth  yet 
unexplored,  and  even  seek  to  ascend  into  regions  commonly 
deemed  inaccessible  to  human  research.  But  the  results  of 
these  praiseworthy  endeavours,  however  successful  they  may 
be,  cannot  by  themselves  fully  satisfy  the  scientific  mind. 
It  is  not  only  the  phenomena  surrounding  us  which  demand 
exploration.  Reason  cannot  be  satisfied  until  it  has  probed, 
to  the  utmost  of  its  power,  the  depths  of  science  itself,  and 
either  ascertained  what  is  and  must  be  its  ultimate  founda- 


2  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

tions,  or  assured  itself  that  such  fundamental  knowledge  is 
beyond  the  scope  and  power  of  human  endeavour. 

It  is  not  enough  for  the  true  man  of  science  to  be  ac- 
quainted with  many  sciences,  and  to  reflect  on  the  know- 
ledge he  so  possesses.  The  rational  mind  sooner  or  later 
seeks  to  know  what  is  the  basis  of  his  own  knowledge  and 
the  ultimate  groundwork  of  all  science.  It  thus  calls  for  a 
science  of  science,  and  cannot  rest  satisfied  without  a  pur- 
suit of  Epistemology,  or  the  study  of  the  grounds  of  all  the 
learning  the  mind  of  man  can  acquire. 

It  is  an  attempt  to  satisfy  this  rational  desire  to  which  the 
present  volume  is  devoted.  Such  an  attempt  appears  to  us 
greatly  needed  at  the  present  time  when  every  branch  of 
science  is  rapidly  becoming  more  and  more  subdivided. 
For  the  fact  of  that  very  subdivision  makes  a  comprehensive 
contemplation  of  science  and  of  nature,  as  one  whole,  both 
more  and  more  difficult,  and  also  more  and  more  requisite 
for  the  satisfaction  of  the  intellect. 

Epistemology  is  a  product  of  mental  maturity,  individual 
and  racial ;  but,  sooner  or  later,  a  demand  for  it  is  inevitable, 
while  the  attainment  of  a  satisfactory  response  to  that  de- 
mand is  not  only  a  thing  to  be  pursued  for  its  own  sake,  but 
will  be  found  an  aid  to  the  study  of  every  separate  science 
and  an  introduction  to  them  all.  This  science  of  the 
grounds  and  groundwork  of  science  is  one  to  the  study  of 
which  gifted  minds  are  spontaneously  impelled,  as  ordinary 
minds  are  impelled  to  acquire  at  least  the  rudiments  of 
ordinary  scientific  truth.  For  all  men  (not  congenitally  de- 
fective) are,  in  fact,  forced  by  a  natural  and  spontaneous 
impulse  to  seek  and  to  acquire  some  knowledge.  To  most, 
knowledge  is  pleasurable,  while  many  pursue  it  with  passion, 
and  find  in  its  possession  a  perennial  source  of  happiness. 

Amongst  the  latter  are  to  be  found  men  of  the  noblest 
minds;  for  though  right  action,  rather  than  right  thinking, 


IN  TR  OD  UC  TOR  Y  3 

constitutes  the  highest  human  activity,  yet  the  will  cannot 
act  with  good  effect  unless  the  intellect  be  first  sufficiently 
informed. 

The  earliest  known  ages  of  man's  existence  have  afforded 
us  pictorial  evidence  of  some  endeavour  after  knowledge, 
while  the  relics  of  Egypt,  Babylon,  and  China  speak  plainly 
of  its  deliberate  and  systematic  pursuit. 

But  an  ordered,  systematic  pursuit  of  knowledge  is 
"  science  "  ;  for  "  science  "  is  but  the  careful  and  exact  ap- 
plication of  ordinary  reason  and  good  sense  to  the  examina- 
tion of  any  object  we  seek,  as  best  we  may,  to  understand. 
The  endeavour  thus  to  obtain  the  most  complete  knowledge 
possible  about  any  subject  of  investigation,  whatever  it  may 
be,  constitutes  the  highest  form  of  science,  for  it  necessitates 
the  study  of  Epistemology. 

When  we  first  deliberately  and  reflectively  survey  the 
world  about  us,  we  may  well  be  appalled  by  the  immense 
variety  of  objects  and  activities  which  on  every  side  seem  to 
solicit  our  attention.  Striking  differences,  however,  be- 
tween many  of  these  become  at  once  obvious,  and,  little  by 
little,  they  are  found  to  arrange  themselves  in  groups  ac- 
cording to  their  apparent  degrees  of  likeness  and  unlikeness. 
Such  groups  roughly  correspond  with  those  various  branches 
of  human  inquiry  which  have  grown  into  distinct  yet  con- 
nected systems  of  ordered  knowledge,  familiarly  known  as 
so  many  different  sciences.  Among  them  are  the  sciences 
which  deal  with  the  celestial  bodies ;  with  the  earth,  its 
structure  and  formation;  with  the  multitudinous  tribes  of 
living  creatures  which  people  its  surface,  and  with  the 
human  race. 

Ordered  and  systematic  knowledge  considers  such  subjects 
from  various  points  of  view  and  along  different  lines  of 
thought.  But  two  questions  commonly  suggest  themselves 
with  respect  to  each  new  object  or  event  which  comes  within 


4  THE  GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

the  sphere  of  our  experience.  Having  recognised  its  exist- 
ence, or  "  that  it  is,"  the  first  of  these  questions  asks, 
"What  is  it  ?  ";  the  second  makes  the  inquiry,  "  Why  is 
it  ?  "  Whence  does  it  arise  ?  How  does  it  come  to  be  ? 

Demands  which  thus  rise  to  the  lips  even  of  the  child 
must  assuredly  be  included  amongst  the  problems  which 
systematic  knowledge  investigates.  They  constitute  indeed 
the  most  searching  inquiries  which  science  can  carry  on  with 
respect  to  whatsoever  objects  may  become  the  subject  of  its 
labours.  To  classify  each  object  or  event  with  its  congeners 
is  one  great  end  of  scientific  inquiry,  and  such  an  end  was 
attained  in  each  case  when  the  fundamental  similarity  be- 
came understood  between  the  fall  of  any  object  to  the  earth's 
surface  and  the  moon's  motions;  between  the  electric  spark 
and  the  lightning's  flash ;  and  between  that  hugest  of  the 
ocean's  inhabitants,  the  whale,  and  the  little  bat  which  flits 
through  the  summer  air  at  twilight.  These  may  serve  as 
familiar  examples  of  approximate  answers  to  the  question, 
"  What  is  it  ?  "  The  origin  of  the  solar  system,  the  ex- 
planation of  reflex  and  sensori-motor  actions,1  and  the 
genesis  of  new  species  of  animals  and  plants,  are  instances 
of  most  interesting  scientific  inquiries  as  to  the  "  how  " 
and  "  why  "  of  matters  of  scientific  or  of  ordinary  experi- 
ence. 

Knowledge  is  initiated  in  the  individual  by  the  actions  of 
surrounding  objects  upon  his  organs  of  sense,  which  objects 
the  child  becomes  gradually  able  to  perceive  more  or  less 
distinctly.  Self-knowledge  is  of  later  origin,  and  much  ac- 
quaintance with  the  external  world  is  acquired  before  the 
attention  of  anyone  becomes  directed  to  his  own  mental 
processes  and  his  internal  experiences. 

1  Movements  which  take  place  independent  of  the  will  on  the  occurrence  of 
some  sensation,  as  the  movements  of  swallowing  take  place  when  a  morsel  is 
felt  at  the  back  part  of  the  mouth. 


IN  TR  OD  UC  TOR  Y  5 

So  it  is  with  the  lower  races  of  mankind  and  the  least 
cultivated  members  of  civilised  communities.  Physical 
phenomena  attract  their  attention  almost  exclusively,  and 
usually  they  attend  but  slightly,  or  hardly  at  all,  to  matters 
psychical.  All  men  also,  however  cultivated,  are  continually 
impelled  and  compelled  to  notice  what  they  regard  as  sur- 
rounding objects,  to  the  apprehension  of  which  the  mind 
applies  itself  with  extreme  facility.  But  they  are  by  no 
means  so  often  impelled  to  notice  their  own  mental  states. 

Now,  as  we  all  know,  "  practice  makes  perfect,"  and  new 
or  unfamiliar  modes  of  activity  are  generally  at  first  unwel- 
come and  performed  with  comparative  difficulty.  It  is  small 
wonder,  then,  that  to  most  men  the  study  of  their  own 
minds  and  mental  processes  is  at  first  both  repugnant  and 
difficult. 

But  a  moment's  reflection  will  suffice  to  make  clear  to  the 
reader  that  if  he  would  become  acquainted  with  the  ground- 
work of  science,  he  must  also  carefully  inform  himself  re- 
specting the  means  and  conditions  indispensable  for  that 
inquiry.  No  language  can  be  fully  understood  without  a 
knowledge  of  its  grammar,  and  no  art  can  be  successfully 
pursued  by  anyone  who  is^  ignorant  as  to  the  nature  and 
use  of  the  tools  needed  for  its  exercise.  Obviously  the 
study  of  objects  and  actions  around  us,  as  they  are  com- 
monly apprehended,  and  also  as  the  results  of  the  most  care- 
ful examination,  lies  at  the  base  of  every  science,  and  is 
therefore  closely  connected  with  the  study  of  the  ground- 
work of  science.  But  none  of  the  objects  of  any  science, 
however  simply  physical,  can  be  comprehended  by  us  with- 
out the  employment  of  certain  mental  tools  of  different 
kinds,  which  must  be  used  in  the  right  manner.  No  science 
can  be  properly  cultivated  without  a  certain  amount  of  hard 
work,  and  in  order  to  lay  bare  and  see  clearly  the  founda- 
tions of  all  science,  such  work  is  especially  needed.  It  is 


6  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

on  this  account  we  have  chosen  for  our  title  The  Ground- 
work of  Science,  it  being  our  desire  to  point  out  not  only 
what  those  foundations  are,  but  also  the  tools  to  be  used 
and  the  kind  of  work  requisite  for  their  discovery  and 
correct  apprehension.  The  study  of  psychical  states  being 
thus  indispensable,  it  is  fortunate  that  the  difficulty  anyone 
may  find  in  turning  the  mind  inwards  upon  itself  can  soon 
be  overcome ;  for  the  faculties  of  introspection  and  retro- 
spection, like  our  other  faculties,  can  be  strengthened  by 
exercise,  and  all  that  is  ordinarily  needed  to  perfect  it  is 
patient  perseverance. 

Perceptions  of  external  and  internal  facts  are  primary 
elements  of  science.  But  neither  physical  facts  alone,  nor 
mental  facts  alone,  will  suffice  for  even  the  commencement 
of  science.  For  that,  conceptions,  which  are  the  result  of 
both,  are  needed.  The  facts  our  senses  make  known  to  us 
are  the  existences  and  actions  of  what  we  regard  as  in- 
dividual objects,  while  mental  facts  are  individual  states  of 
what  is  known  as  "  the  mind  " :  states  in  which  we  act  or 
are  acted  on.  All  that  we  thus  know  are  real  individual  (or 
concrete)  existences  and  activities.  But  with  such  materials 
only  the  intellect  could  do  no  work  at  all.  Thoughts,  of 
which  words  are  the  external  signs,  relate  not  to  what  con- 
cerns external  or  internal  individual  things,  but  each  thought 
relates  to  many  things  of  the  same  kind,  i.  e.,  to  "  univers- 
als."  Almost  always  thoughts,  and  the  words  which  ex- 
press them,  refer  to  and  denote  what  is  abstract  instead  of 
concrete,  and  what  is  universal  instead  of  individual.  The 
thought  symbolised  by  the  word  "  triangle  "  does  not  refer 
to  any  individual,  concrete  triangle,  nor  even  to  a  definite 
kind  of  triangle  (e.g.,  to  an  equilateral  or  non-equilateral 
one),  but  refers  to  "  triangle-in-general  "  —  to  a  triangle  con- 
sidered as  abstract  and  universal,  and  to  all  triangles  as 
members  of  one  class  of  figures.  It  is  the  same  with  every 


IN  TROD  UCTOR  Y  >j 

noun-substantive  which  is  not  a  proper  name,  with  every 
adjective,  and  with  every  verb.  The  words  "  apple," 
"  red,"  "  fallen,"  are  equally  applicable  to  every  kind  of 
apple,  to  whatever  object  is  of  a  red  tint,  and  to  everything 
which  has  fallen  from  a  higher  to  a  lower  level. 

It  is  impossible  intelligently  to  utter  the  simplest  sentence 
— no  savage  could  even  say  "Spear  broken!"  without 
making  use  of  highly  abstract  ideas.  Indeed,  the  highest 
and  most  abstract  of  all  ideas,  that  of  "  being  "  or  "  exist- 
ence," is  necessarily  implied  in  every  statement  we  make 
and  every  question  we  ask.  Again,  no  progress  in  science 
is  possible  without  apprehending  degrees  of  likeness  and 
unlikeness,  perceptions  as  to  which  constitute  the  basis  of 
all  classification.  But  neither  "  likeness  "  nor  "  unlikeness  " 
can,  of  course,  exist  by  itself  in  the  concrete,  and  no  single 
object  taken  by  itself  can  be  either  one  or  the  other.  But 
as  with  likeness,  so  with  every  relation  in  which  one  object 
or  action  can  possibly  stand  to  another  object  or  action,  we 
can  only  apprehend  it  by  means  of  an  abstract  idea,  and  as 
all  science  consists  of  a  study  and  comprehension  of  "  re- 
lations," so  all  science  is  essentially  abstract,  although 
derived  from,  and  accurately  applicable  to,  real  concrete 
states  of  real  concrete  things. 

"  Thoughts  "  in  one  sense  are  concrete,  individual  mental 
(or  psychical)  realities,  as  truly  as  a  heap  of  stones  are  con- 
crete physical  realities.  But  the  meaning  of  a  thought  and 
its  oral  expression — e.  g.t"  triangle  "  or  "  apple  " — is  (as 
just  said)  abstract.  Nevertheless,  it  is  not  purely  mental, 
but  refers  to  real  things  which  constitute  the  "  class  "  to 
which  the  abstract  term  refers — the  class  of  triangles  and  the 
class  of  apples — each  real  concrete  member  of  each  such 
class  possessing  the  real  concrete  characters  referred  to  by 
the  abstract  term.  Thus  these  "  thoughts  "  so  considered 
are  not  simply  mental  any  more  than  simply  physical. 


8  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

They  are  ideas  which  have  their  roots  in  the  real  concrete 
character  of  real  concrete  things.  Therefore  what  we  mainly 
make  use  of  are  these  activities  of  a  mixed  nature — in  essence 
psychical  and  in  reference,  generally,  physical.  It  is  thus 
we  apprehend  the  relations  between  the  various  existences 
known  to  us.  And  the  work  of  science  may  be  said  to  con- 
sist (i)  in  the  accurate  classification  of  perceived  objects,  and 
the  relations  which  exist  between  them,  both  simultaneous 
and  successive — which  are  often  called  "  the  co-existences 
and  sequences  of  phenomena" — and  (2)  in  estimating  the 
possibility,  probability,  necessity,  or  impossibility  of  their 
recurrence.  Thus  are  formulated  what  are  commonly  called 
"  laws  of  nature."  Some  of  these  so-called  "  laws"  are 
termed  "  empirical,"  because  they  merely  express. co-exist- 
ences and  sequences  which  have  been  observed  to  exist  as 
facts,  apart  from  any  knowledge  of  the  causes  which  produce 
them.  Necessary  laws,  on  the  other  hand,  are  such  as  we 
can  perceive  to  be  the  inevitable  result  of  known  causes,  or 
such  as  possess  other  evidence  of  their  universal  truth. 
Some  scientific  truths  must  be  directly  evident  (in  and 
through  perception)  or  science  could  make  no  beginning; 
but  we  must  also  be  able  to  attain  to  truths  which  are 
indirectly  evident  (in  and  through  reasoning  or  infer- 
ence), otherwise  we  could  make  no  progress,  and  so  sci- 
ence would  remain  a  mere  mass  of  empirically  ascertained 
data. 

Now,  amongst  the  laws  of  nature  are  the  laws  which,  so 
to  speak,  regulate  the  mode  in  which  mental  processes 
should  be  carried  on  in  order  to  secure  valid  and  satisfactory 
results  and  to  avoid  mistakes  and  fallacies  in  our  judgments 
and  inferences.  Therefore,  since  science  depends,  and  must 
depend,  largely  on  reasoning,  it  imperatively  requires  not 
only  the  greatest  care  with  respect  to  the  observation  of 
facts,  but  also  the  greatest  care  that,  in  our  inferences,  those 


INTRODUCTORY  9 

laws  of  thought  the  violation  of  which  induces  error,  should 
in  no  case  be  disobeyed. 

In  every  human  perception,  and  therefore  of  course  in 
every  perception  wherewith  science  is  concerned,  there  are 
two  constituents — (i)  the  mental  or  "  subjective"  constit- 
uent— the  psychical  modification  of  the  subject,  /'.  e.,  of 
him  who  perceives — and  (2)  the  external  or  "  objective  " 
constituent — that  (of  whatever  it  may  consist  and  whatever 
be  its  cause)  which  is  the  object  cognised  or  perceived  in  the 
psychical  act  of  cognition  or  perception  on  the  part  of  the 
subject.  Again,  in  every  act  of  intellectual  cognition  or 
perception,  there  are  also  two  elements — (i)  the  sensational 
and  (2)  the  intellectual. 

In  the  earliest  stages  of  mental  life,  psychical  action — 
though  no  doubt  partly  excited  by  internal  feelings  (that  is, 
by  feelings  due  to  physical  changes  in  the  internal  bodily 
organs) — is  mainly  roused  to  activity,  as  before  said,  by  the 
action  of  external  bodies  upon  the  infant's  organs  of  sense 
and,  through  them,  upon  its  central  and  supreme  nervous 
organ,  its  brain.  Numerous  feelings  are  thus  aroused  and 
subsequently  experienced  again  and  again  in  various  com- 
binations of  co-existence  and  sequence  of  feelings  thus 
excited  by  external  objects.  These  experiences  lay  the 
foundation  for  subsequent  minute  brain  modifications,  the 
accompaniment  of  which  are  what  we  call  "  mental  images," 
"  imaginations,"  or  "  phantasmata. "  Such  mental  phe- 
nomena are  internal  feelings,  and  resemble,  more  or  less 
closely,  the  feelings  previously  excited  by  external  objects. 

Without  the  aid  of  such  mental  images,  or  imaginations, 
it  is  impossible  for  us  to  think  at  all,  while  it  is  impossible 
for  us  to  imagine  aught  save  things  which  our  senses  have 
previously  experienced,  either  entire  or  in  their  constituent 
parts.  Our  sense-impressions  can,  as  it  seems  to  us,  alone 
furnish  a  basis  and  support  on  which  the  intellect  may  build 


IO  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

and  act,  and  it  can  build  nothing  except  upon  a  foundation 
of  sense-impressions,  nor  can  it  take  a  step  without  the  aid 
of  the  imagination.  Thus  sensations  and  subsequent  mental 
images  are  both  the  necessary  antecedents  and  also  the  in- 
dispensable accompaniments  of  all  our  ideas,  however  ab- 
stract or  refined. 

Nevertheless,  it  would  (in  our  opinion)  be  the  greatest 
mistake  possible  to  affirm  that  there  is  absolutely  nothing  in 
the  intellect  save  what  previously  existed  in  our  sensations. 
To  say  this  would  be  to  deny  the  essential  distinctness  which 
exists  between  "  ideas  "  and  "  feelings,"  whether  the  latter 
are  "  sensations  "  or  "  mental  images."  As  to  the  signifi- 
cation of  the  word  "  idea,"  our  definition  would  be  "  an 
intellectual  representation  of  an  object  either  actually  exist- 
ing or  merely  possible." 

One  or  two  examples  may  suffice  to  show  how,  by  the 
help  of  sensations,  and  mental  images,  the  mind  rises  to  the 
conceptions  of  ideas  beyond  the  power  of  mere  feeling. 
Thus  we  often  refer  to  some  past  "  experience,"  and  the 
idea  is  a  sufficiently  familiar  one,  yet  that  idea  cannot  pos- 
sibly be  a  faint  reproduction  of  past  feelings,  for  "  experi- 
ence "  is  an  abstract  term,  and,  therefore,  denotes  something 
which  never  could  have  been  felt  at  all.  By  receiving  or 
obtaining  over  and  over  again  feelings  of  the  same  or  of 
different  kinds,  we  may  feel  them  more  easily,  more  pleasur- 
ably,  or  (as  is  too  often  the  case)  more  painfully.  But  to 
undergo  such  changes  of  feeling,  and  to  obtain  the  idea 
"  experience,"  are  two  very  different  things. 

Again,  we  can  all  form  an  idea  of  the  action  of  our  eyes 
in  seeing  (our  act  of  sight),  yet  that  act  of  seeing  was  never 
itself  felt,  nor  can  the  idea  be  decomposed  into  mere  feelings 
—it  contains  much  more.  We  may  have  certain  feelings  in 
our  eyeballs  while  looking,  but  even  if  we  could  feel  (which 
we  cannot)  every  minute  action  of  every  part  of  the  eyes 


IN  TR  OD  UC  TOR  Y  \  \ 

and  of  the  brain's  complex  mechanism,  such  feelings  would 
be  no  "  idea  of  the  act  of  seeing."  Among  the  constant 
experiences  of  our  daily  life  are  our  perceptions  of  different 
shades  of  colour,  and  different  feelings  have  accompanied 
such  perceptions.  But  of  "  colour"  we  have  never  once 
had  a  feeling ;  yet  we  have  a  clear  idea  of  it  and  often  speak 
of  it. 

We  have  certainly  another  idea  which  was  never  felt,  and 
that  is  our  idea  of  "  nothing,"  or  "  nonentity."  It  is  very 
certain  that  past  sensations  can  never  account  for  thai  con- 
ception, which  is  nevertheless  commonly  enough  employed. 
How  often  do  we  not  hear  such  expressions  as  "  It  is  worth 
nothing,"  or,  "  There  is  nothing  in  it  "  ? 

That  our  powers  of  mental  conception  are  not  tied  down 
to  experience  is  shown  by  the  very  fact  that  we  can  conceive 
of  its  not  being  so  tied  down,  and  also  that  we  conceive  of 
other  senses  besides  those  which  we  possess — such,  e.  g.,  as 
senses  which  might  enable  us  to  feel  the  chemical  composi- 
tion, or  the  magnetic  currents  and  condition,  of  different 
bodies.  We  can  conceive  of  possible  experiences  which  are 
as  remote  from  being  actual  as  would  be  perceptions  of 
colour  gained  by  most  carefully  listening  with  the  ear,  or 
musical  harmonies  detected  by  specially  contrived  lenses 
carefully  fitted  to  our  microscopes. 

This  essential  distinction  may  be  further  shown  by  the 
fact  that  one  and  the  same  intellectual  conception  can  be 
initiated  and  supported  by  a  variety  of  very  different  sets  of 
feelings,  while  a  single  set  of  feelings  may  initiate  and  sup- 
port a  number  of  divergent  intellectual  conceptions.  Thus 
the  one  abstract  idea,  "  motion,"  may  be  initiated  or  sup- 
ported by  our  actual  experience  or  mere  imagination  of  (i) 
the  sight  of  something  traversing  our  field  of  vision ;  (2)  a 
feeling  of  something  slipping  through  the  hand  ;  (3)  a  sound 
as  of  falling  waters;  (4)  one  like  that  accompanying  the 


12  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

ascent  of  a  rocket;  (5)  the  sight  of  a  bow  and  arrow,  a 
musket,  or  a  pile  of  cannon-balls;  (6)  the  name  of  a  well- 
known  race-horse;  (7)  dance-music  from  a  familiar  ballet; 
(8)  the  smell  of  a  fox,  and  so  on. 

So  also  with  a  single  set  of  feelings,  such  as  those  we 
might  experience  after  gazing  upon  a  marble  statue  of 
Shakespeare :  its  aspect,  or  even  our  mere  recollection  of  it, 
might  give  rise  to  and  support  a  number  of  very  diverse  in- 
tellectual conceptions.  Thus  it  might  lead  us  to  conceive 
of  (i)  the  man  Shakespeare  who  once  lived;  (2)  the  Eliza- 
bethan age ;  (3)  the  man's  merit  as  a  dramatist ;  (4)  of  poetry 
as  an  art ;  (5)  plays  we  have  seen  acted ;  (6)  theatrical  mise 
en  scene  ;  (7)  the  name  and  merit  of  the  statue's  sculptor; 
(8)  the  appearance  of  the  marble ;  (9)  the  mountains  of  Car- 
rara; (10)  the  geographical  age  of  the  limestone;  (ii)the 
creatures  which  existed  whilst  it  was  being  deposited;  (12) 
marble  as  a  substance;  (13)  the  particular  piece  making  the 
statue;  (14)  individuality;  and  lastly  (15)  the  idea  of  being 
or  existence. 

To  state  this  distinction  as  shortly  as  possible,  it  may  be 
pointed  out  that  our  sensitive  faculty  is  affected  by  sur- 
rounding objects  in  various  ways,  but  that  it  is  the  intellect 
alone  which  can  apprehend  the  relations  in  which  they 
stand  to  it  and  to  each  other,  and  that  such  relations  do,  in 
fact,  exist.  But  it  is  plain  that  to  understand  the  relative 
position  of  two  objects,  we  must  perceive  both  of  them  and 
turn  back  the  mind  (reflect)  from  the  last  to  the  first  per- 
ceived. Without  so  doing,  their  spatial  relations,  their  re- 
lations as  to  position,  could  not  possibly  be  apprehended. 

Again,  feelings  (both  sensations  and  imaginations)  can 
never  reflect  on  feelings ;  but  thought  can  reflect  on  thought. 
Feeling  may  be  so  intense  as  to  annihilate  itself  and  pro- 
duce insensibility — as  light  may  dazzle  and  blind;  but  an 
idea  can  never  be  too  bright  and  clear,  and  no  amount  of 


IN  TROD  UCTOR  Y  1 3 

vividness  on  the  part  of  the  intellect  can  mar  intellectual 
perception. 

The  profound  and  essential  distinction  which  exists  be- 
tween (i)  an  idea,  or  intellectual  conception,  and  (2)  a 
feeling — felt  or  imagined — is  particularly  conspicuous  with 
respect  to  our  idea  of  ' '  being  "  or  ' '  existence. ' '  That  idea 
is  so  fundamental  that  it  is  simply  applicable  to  everything, 
while  without  it  nothing  can  be  apprehended.  No  group  of 
feelings  could  possibly  give  us  a  feeling  of  "  being,"  because 
there  neither  is  nor  can  be  one  feeling  common  to  all  other 
feelings,  and  yet  a  feeling  of  a  distinguishable  kind.  Never- 
theless, though  we  have  no  "  feeling  "  of  "  being,"  the 
idea  of  "  being  "  lies  at  the  root  of  all  our  conceptions,  and 
is  present  (though,  of  course,  it  is  not  reflected  on)  in  the 
mind  of  the  young  child  who  asks  what  that  "  thing  "  is. 
It  may  be  well  further  to  contrast  our  "  feelings  "  and  our 
"  intellectual  perceptions  "  from  yet  another  point  of  view. 

In  the  pursuit  of  every  science  we  have  to  make  use  of 
both,  and  the  way  we  should  regard  them — the  relations  in 
which  they  stand  to  each  other — is  supremely  important  for 
those  who  would  enter  upon  the  science  of  the  sciences — 
Epistemology.  To  determine  what  is  most  certain  and  most 
fundamental,  it  is  obvious  that  we  need  to  see  clearly  what 
is  and  must  be  the  nature  of  our  absolute  and  ultimate 
criterion  of  truth  in  all  cases. 

There  are  some  persons  who  would  assign  the  dignity  of 
an  ultimate  test  of  reality  and  truth  to  our  sensitive  faculty. 
But  a  little  careful  consideration  will  be  enough  to  show  the 
investigator  that  it  is  the  intellect  alone  which  is,  and  must 
be,  supreme;  and  this  not  only  in  judging  about  recondite 
problems,  but  even  in  deciding  concerning  things  which 
we  see,  hear,  feel,  etc.,  and  concerning  all  concrete  experi- 
ences as  they  actually  occur.  Thus,  even  with  those  matters 
which  can  be  submitted  to  the  test  of  sensation,  the  last 


14  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

word,  in  all  cases  of  doubt,  rests  with  the  intellect  and  not 
with  the  senses.  It  might  seem  that  in  making  experiments 
with  different  bodies  (as  in  chemistry),  when  we  directly  ap- 
peal to  our  senses  for  information,  those  senses  must  be  our 
ultimate  criterion ;  yet  such  is  not  the  case.  The  enormous 
value  and  indispensable  nature  of  our  sensations  is  obvious 
and  unquestionable.  Observation  and  experiment  are  al- 
ways, of  course,  to  be  made  use  of,  when  possible,  for  verify- 
ing our  inferences.  Nevertheless,  in  the  last  resource,  when 
we  have  done  experimenting,  how  do  we  know,  with  absolute 
certainty,  that  we  have  obtained  such  results  as  we  may  have 
obtained  ?  Manifestly  by  the  intellect.  How  otherwise  are 
we  to  judge  between  what  may  seem  to  be  the  conflicting 
indications  of  different  sense-impressions  ?  Nothing  could 
.be  more  foolish  than  to  undervalue  the  testimony  of  the 
senses,  which  are  both  tests  and  causes  of  certainty.  They 
are  not,  however,  the  test  of  it.  Certainty  does  not  pertain 
to  sensation,  but  to  thought  alone.  Self-conscious,  reflect- 
ive thought,  then,  is  our  ultimate  and  absolute  criterion.  It 
is  by  thought  only — by  the  self-conscious  intellect — that  we 
know  we  have  "  feelings  "  at  all.  Without  that  we  might 
indeed  feel,  but  we  could  not  have  complete  certainty  as  to 
our  feeling  and  know  assuredly  that  we  possessed  it.  Our 
ultimate  court  of  appeal  and  supreme  criterion  is  the  intel- 
lect and  not  sense,  and  our  act  of  intellectual  perception 
which  is  thus  ultimate,  which  both  knows  what  it  knows  and 
knows  that  it  knows  it,  with  absolute  certainty,  which  is 
above  any  possibility  of  proof  and  is  self-evident  in  and  to 
itself,  is  called  "  intellectual  intuition." 

The  matters  thus  put  forward  in  a  simple  elementary  way 
in  this  introductory  chapter  will  be  treated  of  more  fully 
and  scientifically  when  we  begin  to  grapple  with  the  most 
fundamental  questions  concerning  human  knowledge.  We 
have  here  somewhat  anticipated  what  we  shall  have  to  say 


IN  TROD  UCTOR  Y  \  5 

in  our  eighth  chapter.  We  have,  however,  felt  ourselves 
forced  so  to  do,  as  otherwise  we  could  hardly  make  clear 
matters  we  must  deal  with  almost  immediately. 

Here,  at  the  outset,  we  take  for  granted  that  a  world  of 
material,  independent  objects,  possessing  various  powers  and 
activities,  exists  about  us ;  also  that  we  possess  a  material, 
extended  body,  so  organised  as  to  produce  in  us  feelings  of 
various  kinds  which  are  closely  connected  with  our  percep- 
tions and  our  judgments. 

Taking  these  data  provisionally  as  unquestionable  facts, 
it  may,  we  think,  suffice  to  affirm  and  point  out  what  will 
be  fully  demonstrated  later  on,  that,  though  in  the  invlsti- 
gation  of  science  we  should  make  use  of  all  our  available 
powers  and  faculties — our  powers  of  feeling,  imagination, 
sensuous  perception,  memory,  and  inference — yet  that  our 
intellect's  declaration,  as  to  what  is  here  and  now  certainly 
and  self-evidently  true,  is  our  supreme  guide,  and  the  most 
powerful  and  effective  instrument  for  our  use  in  every  inquiry 
we  make.  A  provisional  assent  to  this  statement  and  a 
temporary  obedience  to  the  law  thus  set  forth,  is  all  we  wish 
to  ask  of  those  who  would  follow  us  in  our  investigation 
concerning  the  groundwork  of  science. 


CHAPTER   II 

AN  ENUMERATION  OF  THE  SCIENCES 

A  BRIEF  enumeration  of  the  principal  sciences,  the 
^  groundwork  of  which  it  is  our  business  to  inquire 
into,  may  fitly,  we  think,  precede  the  inquiry  itself. 

Various  attempts  have  been  made  at  a  classification  of  the 
sciences  according  to  the  subjects  about  which  they  are  oc- 
cupied; some  sciences  being  set  down  as  "  abstract,"  others 
as  "abstract-concrete,"  and  yet  others  as  "concrete" 
simply. 

All  such  attempts  we  regard  as  futile.  Every  science  is 
a  definitely  organised  system  of  recognised  relations  between 
thoughts  and  objects,  between  thoughts  and  thoughts,  and 
between  objects  and  objects;  and  no  science  can  be  learned 
save  by  the  aid  of  language,  spoken,  written,  or  both.  But 
all  language  is  highly  abstract ;  nor  can  the  most  concrete 
objects  (e.  g.y  a  tray  of  specimens  of  different  minerals)  be 
apprehended  and  compared  save  by  the  aid  of  very  abstract 
ideas. 

On  the  other  hand,  not  the  most  abstract  of  all  ideas,  that 
of  "  being,"  or  "  existence,"  can  be  made  use  of  without 
reference  to  some  concrete  reality  to  which  that  idea  truly 
applies.  Even  the  most  extreme  of  idealists,  he  who  thinks 
that  the  whole  universe  about  him  is  but  the  creation  of  his 
own  mind,  or  he  who  deems  it  (his  own  being  and  thoughts 
included)  to  be  but  passing  phases  of  some  other  unknown 

16 


AN  ENUMERATION  OF   THE   SCIENCES  \J 

mind — each  such  idealist  must  regard  that  mind  he  so  con- 
ceives of  as  a  concrete  reality  and  the  object  of  thought. 

Everything  which  can  be  an  object  of  study  has  multi- 
tudinous relations,  of  most  varied  orders,  to  other  objects 
and  to  the  mind  which  studies  it.  A  sphere  of  crystal,  as 
being  a  single  object,  solid,  transparent,  spherical,  of  a 
definite  weight,  of  a  certain  chemical  composition,  of  a  cer- 
tain temperature,  capable  of  projection  in  various  directions 
and  at  definite  velocities,  as  a  manufactured  object,  made 
in  a  certain  locality,  for  a  definite  purpose,  etc.,  etc.,  ob- 
viously possesses  numerous  relations,  and  cannot  be  fully 
understood  save  from  many  points  of  view  and  by  the  aid 
of  abstract  ideas  of  very  different  orders. 

How  difficult,  then,  must  be  the  task  of  classifying  the 
sciences  according  to  the  degrees  of  abstraction  made  use  of 
by  them,  seeing  that  every  one  of  them  is,  in  fact,  highly 
abstract.  It  is  true  that  an  effort  might  be  made  to  classify 
them  on  other  lines,  as,  for  example,  from  an  historical 
point  of  view.  This,  however,  would  obviously  be  most 
unsatisfactory  were  we  to  try  and  arrange  them  in  the  order 
wherein  the  objects  they  treat  of  become  known  in  the 
history  of  the  individual  mind  ;  and  hardly  less  unsatisfactory 
would  be  an  endeavour  to  arrange  according  to  the  date  of 
their  origin  as  sciences.  Could  astrology  and  alchemy  be 
deemed  incipient  stages  of  astronomy  and  chemistry  ?  The 
mere  fact  that  such  a  question  can  be  asked  is  enough  to 
lead  us  to  abandon  the  task  of  attempting  an  historical 
classification. 

For  our  part,  we  shall  not  try  to  construct  any  classifica- 
tion of  the  sciences  at  all,  but  will  content  ourselves  with 
the  humble  task  of  their  brief  enumeration,  endeavouring, 
at  the  same  time,  to  indicate  some  of  their  logical  relations 
one  to  another. 

Indeed,  reason,  it  seems,  does  not  permit  us  to  concede 


1 8  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

that  any  one  science  has  an  indefeasible  claim  to  priority, 
for  conflicting,  apparently  equal,  claims  point  in  various 
directions. 

Our  own  body  is  the  object  we  most  intimately  know, 
and  next  might  be  ranked  the  objects  most  closely  related 
to  us,  and  with  which  we  are  the  most  familiar.  But  such 
things,  taken  together,  do  not  constitute  any  distinct  science. 

There  is,  however,  one  property  which  belongs  to  them 
and  to  everything  else  we  can  think  of  likewise — to  every 
separate  object,  natural  or  artificial,  to  every  motion  or  ap- 
pearance, and  even  to  every  thought  we  can  entertain  about 
any  possible  object. 

To  know  anything  whatever,  is  to  know  that  it  is  distinct 
from  something  else.  Two  marbles,  alike  in  colour,  size, 
shape,  and  weight,  are  known  with  perfect  certainty  to  be 
distinct,  though  we  may  not,  when  apart,  be  able  to  tell  one 
from  the  other.  We  recognise  them  as  two  things  of  the 
same  kind,  and  together  they  form  "  a  pair."  If  we  have 
elsewhere  a  group  of  three  marbles  exactly  like  the  first  two, 
then  these  two  groups  differ  in  number.  "  Number  "  is  a 
property  possessed  by  every  object,  motion,  or  appearance, 
and  even  by  every  thought. 

The  one  thing  which  alike  pertains  to  everything  we 
know,  terrestrial  or  celestial,  material  or  mental,  is  "  num- 
ber. ' '  Probably  it  was  this  truth  which  underlay  the  system 
of  Pythagoras,  who,  more  than  two  thousand  four  hundred 
years  ago,  taught  that  "  number  "  was  the  principle  of  all 
things. 

But  the  study  of  that  which  is  thus  common  to  every- 
thing is  the  study  of  mathematics.  Therefore  mathematics, 
as  the  science  of  number,  would  seem  to  have  a  reasonable 
claim  to  be  regarded  as  the  most  fundamental  of  all  the 
sciences,  since  it  pertains  to  every  other,  and  no  other  can 
be  pursued  without  it. 


AN  ENUMERATION  OF   THE   SCIENCES  19 

Nevertheless,  another  science  can  advance  a  claim  seem- 
ingly as  unanswerable  in  another  respect  as  is  the  claim  of 
mathematics,  as  just  stated.  No  science  can  claim  to  be 
absolutely  primary  which  has  to  depend  on  another  science 
for  explanation  and  comprehension.  Mathematics  is  a 
science  of  "  number";  but  what  is  "  number  "  ?  More- 
over, numbers  are  alike  or  not  unlike,  and  a  perception  of 
"  likeness  and  unlikeness  "  was  declared,  in  our  introductory 
chapter,  to  be  at  the  base  of  all  the  sciences.  What,  then, 
it  must  be  further  asked,  is  "  likeness  "  ?  May  not  the 
science  which  can  solve  these  riddles  justly  claim  to  under- 
lie, and  be  prior  to,  the  science  of  mathematics  ? 

The  idea  of  "number"  implies  comparison,  together 
with  a  recognition  that  the  things  compared  are  similar,  and 
yet  not  identical.  Things  which  are  quite  dissimilar — such 
as,  e.  £.,  "a  violet  blossom  "  and  "  a  fall  in  consols  " — 
cannot  be  said  to  be  two,  unless  it  be  two  expressions  or  two 
thoughts — in  which  respects  they  are  alike.  But  the  idea  of 
number,  inasmuch  as  it  recognises  things  as  similar  but  not 
identical,  implies  many  things  besides  similarity  and  iden- 
tity. In  every  perception  of  number  there  are,  and  must 
be,  latent  the  ideas  of  "  existence,"  "  distinction,"  "  simil- 
arity," "  unity,"  and  "  truth,"  as  a  little  reflection  will 
show.  Thus,  to  say  "  there  are  two  sheep,"  implies  that 
they  are  not  merely  imaginary,  but  that  they  actually  exist ; 
that  they  are  not  seen  double  by  some  optical  delusion,  but 
are  really  distinct ;  that  they  are  certainly  both  sheep  and 
not  one  of  them  a  goat — i.  e.,  that  they  are  similar,  and  that 
they  have  that  unity  of  nature  which  we  have  just  seen  to 
be  necessary  in  order  that  they  should  be  susceptible  of 
numeration,  and  finally  the  assertion  implies  that  the 
thought  of  the  assertion  corresponds  with  objective  reality, 
that  is,  it  implies  truth. 

It  may  be  replied  that  mathematics  deals  with  abstractions 


20  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

and  considers  numerical  relations  of  things  apart  from  the 
things  themselves.  The  assertion  is  most  true,  but  from 
that  very  fact  it  must  be  applicable  to  all  things  and  would 
be  mere  nonsense  apart  from  the  implication  that  there 
really  are  things,  be  it  only  thoughts,  to  which  the  idea  of 
number  can  be  really  and  truly  applicable.  And  if  thoughts 
are  to  be  capable  of  enumeration  they  must  have  existence, 
distinction,  similarity,  unity,  and  truth,  just  as  a  pair  of 
sheep  (as  above  pointed  out)  must  possess  those  attributes. 
But  this  degree  of  similarity  between  things  so  essentially 
dissimilar  as  ' '  thoughts  ' '  and  ' '  sheep, ' '  suggests  the  further 
question,  "  What  is  likeness  ?  " 

Now  a  moment's  reflection  must  make  it  evident  to  any 
thinker  that  not  everything  can  be  defined  or  explained. 
If  there  were  not  some  things  capable  of  being  understood 
without  definition  and  explanation,  then  nothing  whatever 
could  ever  be  understood  at  all ;  for  in  that  case  the  pro- 
cesses of  definition  and  explanation  would  have  to  be  car- 
ried on  forever.  Now  "  likeness,"  like  "  number,"  can  be 
clearly  seen  to  imply  ideas  of  existence,  distinction,  unity, 
and  truth;  but  that,  of  course,  is  no  explanation  of  it.  It 
is  one  of  those  primary,  ultimate,  fundamental  ideas  which 
(like  the  idea  of  "  existence  "  or  "  being  ")  is  incapable  of 
definition  or  explanation  just  because  it  is  so  simple.  For 
to  say  that  two  things  are  "  alike  "  when  they  are  identical 
in  some  respect,  or  respects,  does  not  deserve  to  be  called 
an  explanation.  For  to  recognise  that  two  objects  are  iden- 
tical in  certain  respects  we  must  be  aware  that  their  other 
respects  are  alike  in  not  being  identical.  Anyone  who 
thinks  he  cannot  understand  what  he  means  when  he  says 
two  things  are  "  alike,"  or  when  he  declares,  "  there  is  a 
4  likeness  '  between  them,"  may  as  well  give  up  the  attempt 
to  understand  any  branch  of  science  and,  a  fortiori,  its 
groundwork.  But  the  science  of  mathematics  enables  us  to 


AN  ENUMERATION  OF   THE   SCIENCES  21 

prove  a  vast  quantity  of  truths  which  would  be  inaccessible 
to  the  human  mind  without  its  aid.  By  its  help  truths,  ap- 
plicable to  all  existing  things,  can  be  deduced  from  other 
truths  by  means  of  various  processes  of  inference.  But  can 
mathematics,  which  thus  makes  use  of  "  proofs,"  dispense 
with  the  aid  of  that  science  upon  which  it  thus  leans:  which 
tells  us  in  what  proof  consists,  and  lays  down  the  laws  by 
obedience  to  which  alone  valid  inference  can  be  carried  on 
and  truth  attained  ?  Now,  such  a  science  is  logic.  Surely, 
then,  logic  may  advance  a  strong  claim  to  be  the  most 
fundamental,  and,  therefore,  to  head  our  list  of  the  sciences. 

But  to  comprehend  logic,  speech  is  necessary,  and  though, 
as  we  shall  hereafter  see,  there  are  strong  grounds  for  con- 
cluding that  speech  was  posterior  to  thought,  nevertheless 
here  and  now,  the  use  of,  and  a  considerable  knowledge 
about,  speech  is  long  anterior  to  our  comprehension  of,  or 
even  to  the  very  first  application  of  our  minds  to,  logic. 
Therefore,  the  science  which  treats  of  human  speech  could 
also  advance  a  claim  to  priority. 

But,  as  before  said,  logic  is  essentially  the  science  of  the 
art  of  proof,  and  all  proof  must  repose  upon  certain  data. 
Therefore,  such  data  must,  in  the  first  place,  be  either  per- 
ceptions which  we  have  concerning  our  own  mental  states 
and  operations,  or  perceptions  concerning  external  things, 
or  conceptions  of,  and  reflections  about,  one  or  the  other,  or 
both  of  these. 

But  all  these  are  forms  of  psychical  activity,  or  are  the 
direct  results  of  different  forms  of  psychical  activity.  Now 
these  psychical  activities  must  be  anterior  to  any  processes 
of  reasoning,  and  form  the  data  whence  all  reasonings  pro- 
ceed. But  the  elucidation  of  these  data  is  the  business  of 
psychology.  Surely,  then,  the  science  which  deals  with 
the  initiation  and  performance  of  psychical  phenomena 
(phenomena  which  constitute  the  data  and  basis  of  logic) 


22  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

may  claim  priority  over,  and  to  be  more  fundamental  than, 
logic  itself. 

But  the  science  of  reasoning  cannot,  for  another  reason, 
validly  lay  claim  to  be  primary  and  fundamental,  since  it 
requires  other  data  than  those  given  it  by  psychology. 
Now  in  order  to  prove  anything  by  reasoning,  we  must  show 
that  it  necessarily  follows,  as  a  consequence,  from  other 
truths,  on  the  truth  of  which  its  own  truth  depends.  Such 
other  truths  must  therefore  be  deemed  more  indispensable 
than  the  thing  they  are  called  on  to  prove.  Evidently  we 
cannot  prove  everything.  However  long  may  be  our  argu- 
ments, we  shall  at  last  come  to  statements  which  must  be 
taken  for  granted  as  ultimate.  One  such  statement  is  that 
which  affirms  the  validity  of  reasoning.  If  we  had  to  prove 
the  validity  of  the  reasoning  process,  then  either  we  must 
argue  in  a  circle,  or  our  process  of  proof  must  go  on  forever 
without  ever  coming  to  a  conclusion.  In  other  words,  there 
could  be  no  such  thing  as  proof  at  all.  There  must,  then, 
if  any  human  knowledge  is  trustworthy,  be  some  truths 
which  require  no  proof,  but  are  evident  in  and  by  them- 
selves. Once  more,  then,  that  science,  whatever  it  may  be, 
which  thus  deals  with  the  basis  of  all  reasoning,  and  there- 
fore of  all  psychology,  of  all  logic,  and  also  of  all  mathe- 
matics, would  seem  to  have,  if  anything  has,  a  valid  claim 
to  be  the  most  primary  and  fundamental  of  all  sciences. 
But  the  science  which  does  this  is  metaphysics ! 

Metaphysics,  however,  though  it  thus  deals  with  what  is 
so  primary  and  fundamental,  is  a  science  which  has  also  to 
do  with  the  human  mind,  with  our  views  concerning  an  ex- 
ternal world,  and  with  whatever  constitutes  the  subject- 
matter  of  every  other  science.  For  of  what  does  the  science 
of  metaphysics  treat  ? 

In  the  first  place,  it  may  be  said  to  be  "  the  science  of  the 
supersensuous  considered  objectively." 


AN  ENUMERA  TION   OF    THE   SCIENCES  2$ 

It  is  also  divisible  into  two  great  sections;  the  first  of 
these  (a)  may  be  distinguished  as  "  general,"  occupied  as 
it  is  about  "  being,"  its  properties  and  categories — about 
"  reality  "  in  the  sense  we  give  to  that  term.  For  us 
"  reality  "  is  composed  of  "  whatever  actually  does  or 
possibly  may  exist";  while,  similarly,  "  being  "  is  that 
which  possesses  either  form  of  "  reality." 

"  Reality  "  cannot  be  anything  else  but  possible  or  actual, 
for  there  evidently  can  be  nothing  intermediate  between 
the  two.  Abstract  "being"  cannot,  of  course,  exist  as 
conceived  by  the  mind ;  but  nevertheless  it  is  not  absolute 
nothing  (nihilum),  because,  though  incapable  of  existence 
in  itself,  the  conception  is  nevertheless  realised  in  things 
which  do 'exist,  while  pure  nonentity  (nihilum)  is  the  abso- 
lute negative,  and  cannot  possibly  exist  in  any  mode.  As 
to  what  is  "  actual,"  that  term  needs,  and  can  have,  no 
definition,  since  it'must  be  implied  in  every  attempt  to  de- 
fine it. 

The  second  great  conception  (b)  of  metaphysics  may  be 
called  "  special,"  since  it  concerns  itself  with  definite  in- 
quiries about  cosmology,  the  world  as  it  appears  to  the 
human  intellect,  the  origin  and  nature  of  the  latter,  with 
consequences  which  appear  evidently  to  follow  therefrom  in 
all  directions. 

It  would,  then,  be  manifestly  absurd  to  place  it  first  upon 
our  list.  It  should  come;  as  its  name  implies,  after  the 
study  of  all  that  concerns  the  external  world,  and  the  study 
of  man  as  a  living  and  thinking  organic  being.  But  not 
only  must  metaphysics,  though  the  most  abstract  of  sciences, 
be  denied  the  first  place  in  our  list ;  something  may  even  be 
said  for  the  sciences  usually  deemed  the  most  concrete.  In 
fact,  a  knowledge  of  the  physical  precedes  that  of  the 
psychical  (as  was  before  asserted),  and  if  concrete  sciences 
need,  for  their  comprehension,  abstract  ideas,  the  most  ab- 


24  THE    GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

stract  sciences  have  need  of  the  concrete.  Thus  psychology 
cannot  be  fully  investigated  and  understood  without  some 
comprehension  of  our  organic  frame  and  its  multitudinous 
activities.  But  our  body  is  the  subject  of  anatomy  (includ- 
ing histology)  and  its  activities,  or  physiology,  while  neither 
human  anatomy  nor  physiology  can  be  adequately  compre- 
hended if  dealt  with  alone.  For  such  adequate  compre- 
hension the  aid  of  comparative  anatomy  (or  morphology) 
and  comparative  physiology — which  contrast  man's  form  and 
functions  with  those  of  animals  and  plants — are  needed,  and 
these  cannot  be  made  use  of  without  some  acquaintance 
with  zoology  and  botany.  But,  again,  the  creatures  about 
which  the  last-named  two  sciences  are  concerned,  must  be 
studied  with  respect  to  extinct  as  well  as  existing  species 
(palaeontology),  and  to  know  that  requires  a  knowledge  of 
the  world's  past  history  (geology),  and  this  cannot  be  fully 
understood  without  regard  to  the  earth  as  a  member  of  the 
solar  system  and  of  the  sidereal  universe,  and  so  we  are  led 
to  astronomy. 

We  have  hitherto  passed  over  (simply  because  everything 
cannot  be  mentioned  at  the  same  time)  the  study  of  me- 
chanics and  of  the  physical  energies — gravitation,  heat, 
light,  sound,  chemical  change,  electricity,  and  magnetism ; 
but  every  one  of  these  sciences  is  intimately  connected  with 
what  concerns  the  inorganic  as  well  as  the  whole  organic 
world.  Nor  can  that  study  which  relates  to  the  origin  and 
evolution  of  the  world  (the  only  theatre  actually  known  to 
us  of  all  the  sciences)  be  said  to  have  no  claim  to  be  itself 
primary  and  fundamental.  But  the  whole  universe  has 
been  revealed  to  us  by  human  study  alone,  and  human  ac- 
tivity is  the  cause  of  the  existence  of  all  our  sciences,  on 
which  account  anthropology,  the  science  of  man,  must  be 
allowed  in  its  turn  some  claim  to  be  considered  fundamental. 
Now  if  a  separate  science  (physiology)  be  devoted  to  the 


AN  ENUMERATION  OF   THE   SCIENCES  2$ 

consideration  of  the  activities  of  animals  and  plants,  surely 
the  story  of  human  actions  has  yet  more  claim  on  our  care- 
ful investigation,  and  the  most  important  results  of  human 
activity  are  recorded  in  history,  which  tells  us  of  the  first 
beginnings  and  systematisation  of  mathematics,  psychology, 
and  logic.  And  here  must  also  follow  on  the  study  of 
man's  pursuit  of  his  ideals  of  beauty,  truth,  and  goodness — 
the  history  of  art,  of  science,  of  philosophy,  of  ethics,  and 
of  religion.  All  questions  of  religion,  however,  will  be  very 
carefully  excluded  from  the  present  work,  all  the  arguments 
in  which  claim  to  repose  on  and  appeal  to  nothing  but  the 
pure  dry  light  of  human  reason. 

But  the  fact  that  different  religions  have  existed  has  been 
too  often  made  most  painfully  evident,  and  therefore  the 
recognition  of  the  existence  of  religions  and  systems  of 
theology  as  facts,  cannot  possibly  be  excluded  from  the 
sphere  of  the  sciences  any  more  than  the  external  manifesta- 
tions of  the  inner  nature  of  each  such  system.  Now  theo- 
logy professes  to  occupy  itself  with  man's  relations  to  a  God 
or  to  gods,  and  to  other  superhuman  beings,  if  such  there 
are,  and  to  his  fellow-men,  and  so  may  be  called  (on  the 
assumption  that  the  only  really  intelligent  animals  are  men) 
"  the  sociology  of  intelligences."  But  this  form  of  sociol- 
ogy demands  the  aid  of  philosophy,  psychology,  and  history 
and  ethics.  But  ethics,  like  metaphysics,  may  be  divided 
into  (a)  general  and  (#)  special.  The  former  regards  the 
existence  and  first  principles  of  ethical  distinctions ;  the 
latter  the  special  application  of  those  principles  to  society, 
the  family,  and  the  individual. 

But  for  the  due  application  of  those  principles  to  individ- 
uals and  groups  of  men  we  must  call  in  physiology  to  our 
aid,  and  therefore  anatomy,  while  physiology  brings  with  it 
the  study  of  the  physical  energies  (statics,  dynamics,  thermo- 
dynamics, chemistry,  optics,  acoustics,  and  the  sciences  of 


26  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

electricity  and  magnetism),  which  again  necessitates  recourse 
to  mathematics,  and  once  more  to  logic  and  psychology. 

In  a  word,  all  the  sciences  are  connected  by  such  a  laby- 
rinth of  interrelations  that  the  construction  of  a  really  satis- 
factory classification  of  them  appears  to  be  an  insuperable 
task.  Anyhow,  it  is  a  task  beyond  our  powers. 

But  for  our  special  purpose — the  explorations  of  the 
foundations  of  science — a  systematic  classification  of 
the  sciences  does  not  appear  necessary.  We  will  therefore 
aim  at  nothing  but  to  place  before  our  readers  a  catalogue  of 
the  sciences  in  what  seems,  to  our  judgment,  a  not  incon- 
venient order.  It  will  also,  we  think,  be  well  here  to 
assume  the  existence  of  real,  external,  independent  bodies, 
as  they  are  commonly  supposed  to  exist,  reserving  all 
questions  as  to  the  truth  of  that  supposition  for  our  next 
chapter. 

Accepting,  then,  provisionally,  the  existence  of  a  world 
of  real  and  independent  external  bodies,  generally  exhibit- 
ing some  definite  shape  and  figure,  with  powers  of  intrinsic 
motion,  of  motion  due  to  external  causes,  and  in  all  cases 
capable  of  enumeration,  we  may  thus  set  down  the  series. 

On  account  of  this  last  characteristic  we  will  place  first  on 
our  list  the  science  of  Mathematics.  This,  as  the  reader  of 
course  well  knows,  consists  of  Arithmetic,  or  the  study  of 
definite  quantities  of  things  of  whatever  kind;  of  Algebra, 
or  the  use  of  definite  symbols  to  investigate  undefined 
quantities  of  undefined  things;  and  of  Geometry,  which 
studies  the  properties  of  figures,  the  direction  of  lines,  and 
the  conditions  of  space  in  its  three  dimensions  (length, 
breadth,  and  thickness),  including  the  properties  of  the 
sphere,  the  cone,  and  the  cylinder.  Though  geometry  ap- 
pears to  have  arisen  through  the  desire  to  measure  land 
accurately  (for  which  the  properties  of  triangles  and  their 
angles  served,  and  still  serve),  Greek  geometers  occupied 


AN  ENUMERA  TION  OF   THE   SCIENCES  2J 

themselves,  in  a  purely  speculative  manner,  with  the  differ- 
ent methods  in  which  a  circular  cone  may  be  cut.  The 
investigation  of  the  various  kinds  of  curves  which  may  be 
produced  by  cutting  across  it  in  different  directions,  gave 
rise  to  the  study  we  know  as  Conic  Sections. 

By  various  other  processes  the  most  varied  properties  of 
objects  have  been  investigated,  including  complex  recipro- 
cal relations  of  increase,  decrease,  and  variation.  When 
two  quantities  vary  they  may  do  so  equally  or  in  different 
proportions  or  ratios.  The  Differential  calculus  deals  with 
computations  concerning  the  rates  of  change  between  quan- 
tities. The  Integral  calculus  passes  from  the  relation  be- 
tween such  rates  back  to  the  relations  which  exist  between 
the  changing  quantities  themselves. 

We  may  next  pass  to  the  science  of  Mechanics,  with  its 
subdivisions,  Statics,  Dynamics,  Hydrostatics,  Hydrodynam- 
ics, and  Pneumatics. 

;<  Mathematics  "  is,  as  we  have  seen,  concerned  with  num- 
ber, space,  and  direction;  "'  Mechanics"  also  with  time, 
motion,  and  force,  and  especially  the  action  or  effects  of 
gravity.  Mechanics  deals  also  not  only  with  solids  but 
with  fluids,  whether  liquids  or  aeriform  (or  gaseous)  sub- 
stances; and  these  whether  apparently  at  rest  or  in  a  state 
of  motion. 

Statics  concerns  itself  with  equilibrium,  the  composition 
of  forces,  the  lever,  the  balance,  the  incline'd  plane,  etc. 
Dynamics  considers  motion,  its  velocity,  duration,  extension, 
and  direction  (according  to  Newton's  three  laws),  its  quan- 
tity, acceleration,  and  retardation,  and  the  law  of  falling 
bodies  due  to  the  action  of  centrifugal  and  centripetal  forces. 

In  Mechanics  it  is  assumed  that  solids  consist  of  particles 
cohering  stably  in  some  definite  order,  but  liquids  are  sup- 
posed to  consist  of  particles  which  possess  freedom  of 
motion  in  all  directions,  each  particle  pressing  equally  on 


28  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

all  those  which  surround  it  and  being  equally  pressed  on  by 
them. 

In  Hydrostatics,  therefore,  pressure  in  all  directions,  and 
not  only  the  pressure  of  gravity,  is  considered,  with  the  well- 
known  consequence  that  the  surface  of  tranquil  liquids  is 
horizontal,  and  water  will  always  find  its  own  level,  and 
those  concerning  the  sinking  and  rising  and  other  motions  of 
solid  bodies  in  liquids.  Hydrodynamics,  or  Hydraulics,  deals 
with  the  motions  of  liquids  (waves,  running  water,  etc., 
etc.),  which  are  so  complex  compared  with  those  of  solids, 
and  the  various  machines — the  utilities  of  which  are  due  to 
the  laws  of  moving  liquids — water-rams,  water-wheels,  etc. 

The  science  of  aeriform  fluids,  i.  e.,  Pneumatics,  adopts 
the  hypothesis  that  such  fluids  are  composed  of  particles 
which  repel  each  other,  separating  as  far  as  they  can  but 
pressing  equally  in  all  directions.  Such  fluids  are,  there- 
fore, both  extremely  elastic  and  compressible,  but,  like 
solids  and  liquids,  they  have  their  due  weight,  inertia,  mo- 
mentum, etc.,  and,  like  liquids,  they  have  their  waves  of 
motion.  The  weight  of  the  atmosphere  is  also  treated  of 
in  its  practical  applications  through  the  barometer,  siphon, 
pump,  etc. 

We  may  place  next  the  sciences  which  treat  of  what  are 
called  the  physical  energies  of  matter,  both  in  their  non- 
manifest  or  potential  condition  (capable  of  doing  work),  and 
in  their  active  or  kinetic  state  (actually  doing  work).  The 
first  of  these  sciences  is  that  which  treats  of  Heat,  its  powers 
of  expanding  bodies,  its  phenomena  of  conduction,  convec- 
tion, radiation,  absorption,  reflection,  and  refraction,  and  its 
relations  to  other  physical  energies.  The  science  of  Light 
deals  in  turn  with  its  wonderful  velocity  of  motion,  in  waves 
of  various  lengths,  its  aberration,  reflection,  refraction,  inter- 
ference, polarisation,  etc.,  with  the  laws  of  Optics,  and  such 
practical  results  in  the  microscope,  telescope,  spectroscope. 


AN  ENUMERA  TION  OF   THE   SCIENCES  2Q 

and  other  instruments  constructed  in  accordance  with  its 
laws. 

Acoustics  is  the  science  which  concerns  itself  with  sound, 
its  propagation,  reflection,  and  diffusion  through  aerial  waves 
in  all  directions,  with  the  laws  of  musical  sounds  or  notes, 
the  nature  of  timbre,  and  various  conditions  presented  by 
different  musical  instruments. 

The  science  of  Electricity  is  one  the  amazing  consequences 
of  which  are  familiar  to  everyone,  so  that  we  need  but  men- 
tion its  name  together  with  that  of  Magnetism,  so  intimately 
connected  with  it,  and  pass  on  to  the  science  of  Chemistry, 
which  has  a  distinct,  though  very  indirect,  connection  with 
the  subject  of  this  work. 

All  the  sciences  which  treat  of  solids,  fluids,  and  the 
already  mentioned  physical  energies,  plainly  exhibit  what 
are  commonly  termed  the  laws  which  govern  nature,  but 
had  better  be  called  the  definite  tendencies  which  are  innate 
in  the  substances  which  compose  the  universe.  Yet  chem- 
istry is,  above  all,  distinguished  by  the  clear  and  unanswer- 
able manner  in  which  it  demonstrates  that  these  tendencies 
act  in  clearly  defined  directions,  and  build  up  by  a  selective 
agency  certain  bodies  and  none  others.  Such  is  the  case 
whatever  may  be  the  reduction  in  number  of  what  are  at 
present  considered  elementary  substances,  even  if  we  should 
ultimately  become,  convinced  that  the  material  world  is 
composed  only  of  inconceivably  numerous  combinations  of 
particles  of  one  elementary  substance.  Processes  of  analysis 
and  synthesis  demonstrate  the  definite  proportions  in  which 
alone  different  (as  yet  seemingly  distinct)  substances  can 
unite  and  transform  themselves  into  others  not  less  well  de- 
fined ;  while  Crystallography  reveals  the  extraordinarily 
definite  shapes  into  which  alone  definite  substances  can 
crystallise,  two  such  substances  of  different  kinds  and  modes 
of  crystallisation  sometimes  growing  so  as  to  become  in- 


30  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

extricably  mixed,  each  of  them  preserving  its  own  individu- 
ality and  growing  according  to  its  own  laws.  This  science 
is  closely  allied  to,  or  rather  a  part  of,  Mineralogy,  a  know- 
ledge of  which  leads  to,  and  is  a  necessary  part  of,  the  study 
of  the  crust  of  the  earth  and  the  strata  which  compose  it, 
which  are  dealt  with  by  Geology  ;  while  Meteorology  concerns 
itself  with  the  movements  which  take  place  in  the  earth's 
atmosphere,  and  all  forms  of  storms,  and  the  varying  direc- 
tions of  currents,  and  all  that  concerns  storms  of  all  kinds. 
But  these,  with  the  flow  of  rivers  and  the  action  of  tides, 
the  descent  and  upheaval  of  parts  of  the  earth's  crust  with 
earthquakes  and  volcanoes,  also  come  within  the  purview 
of  Geography  and  Geology^  which  latter  is  again  largely  in- 
debted to  the  science  of  organic  remains  (Paleontology)  for 
its  knowledge  of  the  relations  of  the  superimposed  layers  of 
rocks  which  clothe  our  globe  externally,  revealed,  as  they 
often  are,  by  the  kinds  of  fossils  they  contain. 

But  the  phenomena  of  tides,  of  dawn  and  sunset,  of  the 
year's  seasons,  with  their  shortening  and  lengthening  days, 
and,  above  all,  of  eclipses,  force  us  to  pursue  the  science  of 
the  earth's  celestial  sisters,  Astronomy,  which,  in  turn,  has 
a  distinct  bearing  on  the  possibilities  of  that  inexplicable 
energy  with  which  the  sciences  which  remain  to  be  enumer- 
ated are  concerned — namely,  life. 

Our  reference  to  Palceontology  has,  indeed,  already  borne 
some  reference  to  that  energy,  since  fossil  remains  are  relics 
of  bodies  which  once  had  life. 

The  two  great  groups  of  living  things,  plants  and  animals, 
were  long  supposed  to  be  so  widely  separated  that  each  was 
treated  of  by  a  separate  science  only.  Now,  however,  so 
many  deep  resemblances  are  known  to  exist  between  them 
that  we  have  been  forced  to  treat  with  them  together  as  one 
whole,  in  the  science  of  living  things,  as  Biology.  Living 
things  being  classed  in  the  two  great,  so-called  kingdoms  of 


AN  ENUMERA  TION  OF   THE   SCIENCES  3 1 

plants  and  animals,  it  is  accordingly,  as  everyone  knows, 
divided  into  the  sciences  of  Botany  and  Zoology.  But  every 
animal  and  plant  has  to  be  considered  according  to  its  form 
and  structure  on  the  one  hand,  and  according  to  the  activi- 
ties of  all  its  component  parts.  Those  activities  are  treated 
of  by  Physiology.  Structure  may  be  considered  in  its  larger 
division  as  existing  in  one  or  many  species  (Anatomy),  or  in 
its  microscopic  division — the  structure  of  the  component 
"  tissues  "  of  the  organism  (Histology].  The  structure  of  the 
various  kinds  may  be  studied  in  reference  to  many  or  all 
others,  simply  as  to  matters  of  fact,  or  with  the  aim  of  dis- 
covering general  laws  of  structure  (Morphology).  Yet  another 
science  investigates  the  modes  in  which  each  species  and 
group  of  animals  or  plants  is  developed  from  its  germs  (Em- 
bryology, Development,  and  Ontogeny],  and  the  mode  in 
which  it  may  be  conjectured  to  have  been  derived  from  an- 
tecedent species  (Phylogeny).  But  living  creatures  have  to 
be  considered  with  respect  to  the  relations  they  severally 
bear  to  space  (Biological  Geography],  as  also  to  past  time, 
which  brings  us  once  more  to  palaeontology. 

A  special  science,  which  has  been  termed  Hexicology,1  is, 
moreover,  devoted  to  a  study  of  the  relations  which  exist 
between  organisms  and  their  environment  as  regards  the 
nature  of  the  localities  they  frequent,  the  temperatures  and 
amounts  of  light  which  suit  them,  and  their  relations  to 
other  organisms  as  enemies,  rivals,  or  accidental  and  invol- 
untary benefactors. 

Finally,  as  resuming  and  uniting  all  the  sciences  which 
deal  with  the  various  bodies  which  compose  the  universe, 
comes  the  science  of  the  material  universe  considered  as  one 
whole — namely,  the  science  of  Cosmology. 

After  these  sciences,  acquaintance  with  which  is  necessary 
for  a  complete  knowledge  of  man,  may  follow  that  science 

1  £&<3.     Habit,  state,  or  condition. 


32  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

which  concerns  him  specially  and  directly — namely,  Anthro- 
pology. This  science  studies  the  various  physical  conditions 
needful  for  human  existence,  as  the  various  subdivisions  of 
biology  investigate  the  conditions  necessary  for  the  life  of 
other  organisms  also.  Such  are  the  studies  of  Human 
Anatomy  and  of  the  lower  activities,  i.  e.,  Human  Physiology. 
But  since  man  has  powers  and  characteristics  which  other 
organisms  do  not  possess,  additional  sciences  are  devoted  to 
the  study  of  such  additional  facts.  Thus  Ethnology  occupies 
itself  with  the  various  races  into  which  mankind  is  divided, 
while  Philology  examines  the  languages  they  speak,  and 
History  describes  their  successive  appearances  and  disap- 
pearances, their  aggregations  into  tribes  and  nations,  their 
migrations,  wars,  and  the  series  of  events  which  have  taken 
place,  their  form  of  government,  and  the  actions  both  of 
their  rulers  and  of  the  classes  they  ruled  over.  The  study 
of  the  various  conditions  which  have  been,  or  which  now 
exist,  or  which  might  be  beneficial  or  hurtful  to  the  race,  is 
known  by  the  awkward  term  Sociology.  The  science  of 
Politics  deals  with  the  various  kinds  of  civil  aggregations  in 
which  men  do  or  may  exist,  with  the  probable  or  certain 
benefits  and  defects  of  each.  Man's  conceptions  of  right 
and  wrong  and  the  relations  which  thence  arise  between 
each  individual  and  other  human  beings  standing  to  him  in 
a  multitude  of  different  relations,  constitute  the  science  of 
Ethics,  while  ethical  relations  have  been  supposed  to  extend 
to  some  various  real  or  imagined  superhuman  intelligences, 
so  constituting  Religion. 

In  connection  with  these  latter  sciences  comes  the  study 
of  man's  lower  and  higher  mental  powers,  together  with  the 
probably  psychical  powers  of  lower  organisms,  namely,  the 
study  of  Psychology,  closely  connected  with  which  are  Logic 
and  Philosophy  or  Metaphysics,  about  which  enough  has,  we 
venture  to  think,  been  already  said  in  this  chapter. 


AN  ENUMERA  TION   OF  THE   SCIENCES  33 

Finally,  and  last  of  all,  comes  the  special  subject  of  this 
work,  namely,  the  study  of  the  ultimate  grounds  of  all 
knowledge  and  of  all  science  of  whatsoever  kind — the  science 
of  Epistemology. 


CHAPTER  III 

THE  OBJECTS  OF  SCIENCE 

IN  our  enumeration  of  the  principal  sciences,  as  also 
in  our  initial  chapter,  we  have  taken  for  granted  that 
the  ordinary  and  spontaneous  judgments  of  mankind  as  to 
the  external  world  are  true  and  valid.  But  before  proceed- 
ing any  further  in  our  endeavour  to  apprehend  the  ground- 
work of  our  science,  we  must  carefully  consider  the  question 
as  to  its  objects.  We  must  endeavour  to  attain  as  true  a 
knowledge  as  possible  concerning  the  nature  of  those  things 
which  science  occupies  itself  about. 

The  sciences  of  psychology  and  logic  occupy  themselves 
with  the  human  mind,  its  powers  and  processes,  its  mental 
images,  its  feelings  and  emotions,  its  thoughts  and  infer- 
ences. But  mechanics,  astronomy,  geology,  biology,  etc., 
are  commonly  thought  to  busy  themselves  about  things 
which,  though  we  apprehend  them  by  mental  acts,  truly 
exist  independent  of  the  mind,  and  form  parts  of  a  really 
existing  external  world. 

Now,  of  course,  we  can  know  nothing  which  we  do  not  in 
some  way  perceive  or  indirectly  gain  information  about  by 
eye  or  ear  or  some  sense  organ,  and  everything  we  appre- 
hend we  apprehend  as  in  various  ways  related  to  other 
things,  as  well  as  to  our  own  mind.  Every  object,  there- 
fore, of  which  science  can  take  cognisance,  is  only  known  to 
us  through  a  variety  of  mental  states  which  we  term  feelings, 

34 


THE   OBJECTS  OF  SCIENCE  35 

reminiscences,  inferences,  or  apprehensions,  and  amongst 
the  latter  are  apprehensions  of  such  object's  relations:  both 
its  relations  to  other  things  and  its  relations  within  its  own 
being — its  external  and  internal  relations.  Every  object, 
therefore,  looked  at  as  regards  our  apprehension  of  it — i.  e. , 
merely  subjectively — may  be  said  to  consist  of  a  plexus  of 
such  mental  states  or  "  states  of  consciousness." 

It  is  also  true  that  not  only  can  we  know  nothing  about 
any  object  except  by  means  of  some  mental  state  of  our  own 
being,  but  that  were  it  possible  to  preserve  such  mental 
states  in  their  entirety  while  the  object  they  referred  to  was 
annihilated,  our  mind,  and  therefore  our  knowledge,  might 
remain  unaffected  thereby.  It  is  notorious  that  under 
abnormal  conditions,  things  may  seem  to  be  perceived  which 
do  not  in  fact  exist,  as  also  that  there  may  be  existences 
which,  to  exceptional  individuals,  remain  unperceived — as 
the  odour  of  the  rose  to  one  congenitally  devoid  of  all  olfac- 
tory power,  its  red  hue  to  one  who  is  colour-blind,  and  the 
cry  of  the  bat  to  very  many  persons. 

May  it  not  then  be  that  no  independent  external  world 
really  exists  at  all,  and  may  not  the  "  esse  "  of  every  seem- 
ingly independent  thing  be  "  percipi"  ?  We  know  with 
absolute  certainty  (with  the  certainty  of  reflex  consciousness) 
that  we  have  ideas ;  may  they  not  be  the  only  real  exist- 
ences ? 

This,  as  the  reader  well  knows,  is  Idealism.  But  idealism 
has  much  to  say  for  itself. 

Such  could  not  fail  to  be  the  case,  seeing  how  many  illus- 
trious men  of  a  very  high  order  of  intellect  have  professed 
and  do  profess  idealism,  and  it  is  far  indeed  from  being 
confined  to  pure  metaphysicians.  Many  distinguished  cul- 
tivators and  teachers  of  physical  science  declare  themselves 
to  be  idealists. 

Its  advocates  ask : 


36  THE  GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

"  What  possible  ground  can  anyone  have  for  not  being  an 
Idealist?  If  we  examine  any  object,  as  for  example  an  apple, 
what  are  really  its  various  qualities  ?  Are  they  not  rather  ours 
than  the  apple's  ?  We  think  that  we  look  at  it,  but  all  we  see  is 
a  definitely  shaped  patch  of  colour,  and  that  is  a  sensation  of 
our  own.  We  take  it  up  and  hold  it  to  the  nose,  when  we  per- 
ceive its  apple-odour.  But  that  is  only  another  of  our  sensations. 
We  may  grasp  it,  feel  it,  and  squeeze  it,  and  these  acts  will  occa- 
sion a  number  of  other  sensations  through  our  skin,  muscles,  and 
the  nerves  supplying  both,  and  these  sensations  are  merely  our 
own  feelings  once  more,  though  we  refer  them  to  an  imagined 
object  and  say  that  it  is  rounded  and  rather  hard.  We  may  tap 
it  on  a  table  or  drop  it  on  the  ground,  when  we  shall  hear  sounds  ; 
in  other  words,  we  shall  experience  sensations  of  another  order. 
Finally,  we  may  bite  it,  and  so  have  other  experiences  of  resist- 
ance overcome  and  a  pleasant  flavour  ;  but  the  taste  is  certainly 
not  in  the  apple,  but  in  us.  It  is  but  one  mental  state  the  more. 
Do  what  we  may  we  cannot  by  examining  any  so-called  material 
object  arrive  at  anything  more  than  modifications  of  our  own 
mental  states — different  feelings.  Other  feelings  we  have,  in- 
deed, of  a  less  vivid  kind.  These,  however,  are  nothing  but 
faint  revivals  of  sensations  previously  experienced,  or  of  feelings 
of  the  modes  in  which  such  previously  experienced  feelings  have 
stood  one  to  another.  Such  '  faint  revivals '  and  *  faint  feelings 
of  modes  of  sensation '  we  call  '  ideas.'  These  vivid  and  faint 
feelings  are  the  only  things  which  can  be  perceived  by  us,  and 
the  whole  of  our  knowledge  consists  of  nothing  else.  Therefore, 
as  far  as  we  know,  nothing  exists  or  can  exist  except  as  some- 
thing felt  and  perceived.  We  cannot  even  conceive  anything 
otherwise  existing,  and  therefore  the  very  essence  of  *  existence  ' 
must  consist  in  being  perceived.  Evidently  an  *  idea '  or  a  *  sen- 
sation '  can  be  like  nothing  but  an  idea  or  a  sensation.  A  colour, 
taste,  smell,  or  sound  can  be  like  nothing  but  a  colour,  taste, 
smell,  or  sound.  We  can  have  no  experience  and  no  knowledge 
of  anything  in  any  object,  e.g.,  in  an  apple,  which  exists  under- 
neath (so  to  speak)  its  size,  solidity,  shape,  colour,  smell,  and 


THE    OBJECTS   OF  SCIENCE  37 

taste,  and  which  supports  these  qualities,  but  which  itself  can 
never  by  any  possibility  be  perceived.  What  Idealism  denies, 
therefore,  is  not  the  existence  of  that  which  we  really  perceive, 
and  which  we  habitually  call  '  external  things.'  It  only  denies 
the  existence  of  a  something  underlying  what  we  call  external 
things,  which  *  something  '  is  a  mere  phantom,  a  creation  of  the 
fancy,  and  cannot  be  attained  to  by  any  of  our  senses,  but  is 
equally  out  of  the  reach  of  them  all.  If  ordinary  people  when 
they  speak  of  any  object  mean  to  refer  to  what  they  actually  per- 
ceive (and  which  we  cannot  any  of  us  know  otherwise  than  as  a 
mere  plexus  of  our  feelings),  then  they  are  Idealists  all  the  time 
without  knowing  it,  as  Idealism  fully  accepts  and  asserts  the  ex- 
istence of  such  things  so  actually  perceived.  Idealism  does  not 
contest  the  existence  of  any  one  thing  which  we  can  feel,  per- 
ceive, or  even  imagine — of  anything  which  we  can  apprehend 
either  by  sensation  or  reflection.  That  things  which  we  see  with 
our  eyes  and  touch  with  our  hands  do  really  exist  and  are  really 
known  to  us,  it  does  not  in  the  least  question.  It  only  denies 
that  in  these  really  known  and  existing  things  there  is  an  under- 
lying, unknowable  and  unimaginable  *  substance,'  which  in  some 
mysterious  way  supports  the  qualities  which  our  senses  perceive. 
In  denying  the  existence  of  this  unknown  and  unknowable  *  sub- 
stance,' it  deprives  men  of  nothing  which  they  can  even  imagine, 
and  therefore  of  nothing  they  can  really  miss.  If  the  word  *  sub- 
stance '  be  taken  in  the  vulgar  sense  for  a  collection  of  all  the 
1  qualities  ' — quantity,  shape,  weight,  colour,  etc.,  etc.,  which 
compose  an  object  as  we  know  it — Idealism  can  never  be  accused 
of  taking  it  away,  for,  according  to  Idealism,  it  is  that  alone 
which  exists.  But  if  'substance  '  be  taken  in  a  so-called  'philo- 
sophic '  sense  for  something  external  to  and  independent  of  the 
mind  which  supports  all  the  '  qualities,'  the  existence  of  which 
the  mind  recognises,  then  Idealism  may  be  accused  of  taking  it 
away,  if  one  may  be  said  to  take  away  a  thing  which  never  has 
been  or  can  be  perceived  to  exist  or  be  even  imagined  so  to  do. 
Far  from  inculcating  any  disbelief  in  the  senses  or  in  what  the 
senses  tell  us,  Idealism  attaches  the  very  highest  value  to  the  senses 


38  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

and  to  their  teaching.  It  no  more  doubts  the  existence  of 
what  is  seen,  heard,  or  felt,  than  it  doubts  the  existence  of  the 
mind  which  sees,  hears,  or  feels.  Nothing,  therefore,  can  be 
more  absurd  than  the  criticisms  of  those  persons  who  say  that 
Idealists,  to  be  consistent,  ought  to  run  up  against  lamp-posts, 
fall  into  ditches,  and  commit  other  similar  absurdities.  Idealism 
is  not  only  a  thoroughly  logical' system,  but  also  one  quite  in 
harmony  with  every-day  life,  its  perceptions  and  its  duties.  It  is 
obvious  that  we  can  never  get  outside  ourselves,  or  feel  the  feel- 
ings of  anyone  else.  We  can  only  know  our  own  sensations  and 
ideas.  The  existence  of  these  sensations  and  ideas  is  sufficient 
to  explain  our  whole  experience,  and  we  are  not  idly  to  suppose 
that  other  things  exist  when  such  'other  things'  are  altogether 
superfluous  for  explaining  any  of  the  phenomena  we  are  or  can 
become  acquainted  with.  As  we  cannot  know  anything  beyond 
our  own  ideas,  why  should  we  affirm  that  there  is  anything  be- 
yond them  ?  It  is  impossible  for  us  to  even  imagine  anything 
existing  unperceived.  We  cannot  imagine  matter  existing  in  the 
absence  of  mind,  for  in  the  very  act  of  imagining  it  we  are  com- 
pelled to  imagine  someone  perceiving  it.  It  is,  of  course,  easy 
enough  to  imagine  trees  in  a  park  or  books  in  a  library,  and  no- 
body by  to  perceive  them.  But  so  to  do  is  only  to  form  in  the 
mind  certain  ideas  which  we  call  books  and  trees,  and  at  the 
same  time  to  omit  to  form  the  idea  of  anyone  perceiving  them. 
But  the  person  so  imagining  them  must  himself  be  thinking  of 
them  all  the  time.  To  show,  or  even  to  know,  that  anything  was 
existing  independently  of  the  mind,  it  would  be  necessary  to 
perceive  it  while  it  remained  unperceived,  or  to  think  of  it  while 
at  the  same  time  it  remained  unthought  of,  which  would 
manifestly  be  an  absurd  contradiction  and  a  downright  impossi- 
bility. Idealism,  therefore,  does  not  contradict  the  assertions  of 
common-sense,  or  cause  any  practical  inconvenience  to  him  who 
maintains  it,  seeing  that  it  only  denies  what  is  but  a  figment  of 
perverse  Metaphysicians — a  groundless  and  utterly  irrational  be- 
lief in  a  necessarily  unknown  and  unimaginable  entity,  about 
which  no  one  of  our  senses  can  tell  us  anything  whatever." 


THE   OBJECTS  OF  SCIENCE  39 

Such  is  idealism  as  put  forward  and  defended  by  its  in- 
genious and  estimable  author,  Bishop  Berkeley,  whose  piety 
led  him  to  explain  our  ideas  and  perceptions  as  the  result  of 
the  direct  action  of  God  upon  our  minds ;  the  whole  visible, 
audible,  and  tangible  universe  being  the  product  of  the 
energy  of  the  divine  mind  so  acting  upon  us. 

This  explanation,  could  we  accept  it,  would  indeed  en- 
able us  to  know  at  once  what  is  the  groundwork  of  science. 
But  we  by  no  means  see  how  to  reach  our  goal  by  so  short 
a  journey.  We  need  not  even  linger  over  this  pious  hy- 
pothesis, since,  so  far  as  we  know,  no  one  now  adheres  to  it. 

Nor  has  idealism  remained  unmodified  in  other  respects. 
It  began  with  the  assertion  that  we  can  know  nothing  but 
sensations  and  ideas — the  latter  being  generally  interpreted 
as  plexuses  of  faintly  revived  sensations.  Still  it  must  al- 
ways be  manifest  to  anyone  who  would  carefully  examine 
his  own  mental  states,  that  his  sensations  were  very  rarely 
noted  or  attended  to  as  such,  but  that  his  mind  was  almost 
always  occupied,  not  about ' '  feelings, ' '  but  about ' '  things. 
Even  Berkeley  himself  allowed  that  we  might  reasonably 
speak  of  "  things  "  and  habitually  employ  our  notions  of 
what  we  so  spoke  about  as  if  they  were  what  he  said  they 
were  not,  namely,  absolute  external  existences  independent 
of  the  mind.  Things  were  for  him,  as  they  are  for  modern 
idealists,  stably  associated  groups  of  sensuous  experiences, 
and  not  by  any  means  mere  passing  feelings  of  the  moment. 
Berkeley  denied,  and  idealists  deny,  that  we  can  have  any 
notion  of  an  object  save  in  terms  of  sense-perception,  and 
this  is  so  far  true  that,  as  before  pointed  out,1  we  can  have 
no  conception  of  anything,  however  abstract,  save  by  the 
said  mental  images  or  imaginations. 

As  our  readers  know,  Berkeley's  denial  of  the  existence 
of  material  substance  was  followed  by  Hume's  denial  of  the 

1  See  ante,  p.  9. 


4O  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

existence  of  any  substance  of  mind,  and  his  representation 
of  our  own  being  as  only  made  up  of  a  succession  of  fleeting 
feelings,  their  mode  of  succession  being  modified  by  custom. 
According  to  Fichte,  all  that  exists  is  the  self,  or  subjective 
Ego,  the  thoughts  of  which  constitute  the  universe  (the 
system  of  Solipsism).  According  to  others  there  is  an  ob- 
jective Ego,  of  which  our  own  existence  is  but  a  thought. 
For  modern  transcendental  idealists,  a  "  thinking  subject  " 
is  the  source  of  relations  and  of  the  world  they  constitute ; 
for,  as  we  before  said,  nothing  exists  unrelated. 

It  would  be  beside  the  purpose  of  this  book  to  enter  upon 
a  description  of  the  different  forms  of  idealism.  What  con- 
cerns us  is  not  their  various  affirmations,  but  the  denial  in 
which  they  all  agree — the  denial,  namely,  that  we  do,  or 
can,  know  and  perceive  an  independent  external  world,  con- 
sisting of  objects  known  to  us  as  things  in  themselves,  and 
possessing  a  number  of  objective  qualities  which  are  revealed 
to  us  through  our  subjective  sensations.. 

Many  of  our  readers  may  think  idealism  so  unreasonable 
as  to  feel  unwilling  to  pursue  any  further  the  question  of  its 
truth  or  possible  validity.  If,  however,  they  are  really  in- 
terested in  the  inquiry  to  which  this  volume  is  devoted,  they 
can  hardly  rest  satisfied  without  coming  to  some  decision  as 
to  whether  the  groundwork  of  science  has  to  do  with 
14  thoughts  "  only,  or  whether  it  has  necessarily  also  to  do 
with  "  things." 

It  is  easy  to  laugh  at  idealism,  but  unless  it  contained 
some  important  truth,  it  would  never  have  spread  as  it  has 
done,  and  captivated  so  many  men  exceptionally  gifted. 

Its  propagation,  moreover,  is  a  remarkable  and  interesting 
example  of  the  vitality  and  influence  of  the  English  mind. 
For  the  whole  of  the  philosophy  of  Germany  and  Holland, 
from  Spinoza  to  Hartmann,  has  been  a  result  of  the  mental 
seed  first  sown  in  men's  minds  by  Berkeley,  who  explicitly 


THE   OBJECTS   OF  SCIENCE  41 

produced  what  was  implicitly  contained  in  Locke.  When 
we  call  to  mind  that  Berkeley  begot  his  parricidal  child, 
Hume;  that  Hume  set  going  the  partially  antagonistic,  yet 
largely  similar,  system  of  Kant ;  that  Kant  begot  Fichte, 
and  Fichte  produced  Schelling  and  Hegel,  and  these  again, 
by  a  revulsion,  Schopenhauer  and  Hartmann — it  seems  im- 
possible to  deny  that  English  thought,  from  Locke  through 
Berkeley,  has  been  far  more  influential  than  aught  else  in 
the  domain  of  philosophy,  save  the  Greek  mind  as  manifested 
in  Aristotle. 

It  is  easy  also  to  be  unjust  to  idealism  in  the  following 
way :  Because  idealists  affirm  that  perceptions  consist  of 
plexuses  of  feelings  of  various  kinds — actual  feelings  and 
grouped  images  of  past  feelings — it  may  be  represented  that 
they  (idealists)  occupy  themselves  exclusively  about  their 
own  feelings,  and  thus  treat  as  the  objects  of  perception  what 
are  merely  the  means  of  perception.  But  idealists  no  more 
especially  observe  their  own  sensations  and  feelings  than 
other  people  do ;  they  are,  like  other  people,  occupied  about 
"  things  perceived."  The  difference  is  that  we,  and  most 
men,  affirm  that  through  our  feelings  the  mind  becomes 
aware  that  material  objects  consist  of  extended  corporeal 
substance,  though  of  that  substance  in  itself  we  have  no 
direct  knowledge,  but  only  apprehend  it  through  its  object- 
ive qualities,  the  existence  of  which  is  made  known  to  us 
through  our  sensations. 

Idealists,  on  the  other  hand,  deny  the  reality  of  this  uncog- 
nisable  substance,  and  deny  also  that  we  can  know  it  to  be 
really  and  objectively  extended,  existing  apart  from  the  mind, 
and  they  further  deny  the  reality  of  anything  apart  from 
mind,  usually  seeming  to  mean  a  human  mind,  though  many, 
when  pressed  by  argument,  will  postulate  an  objective  non- 
human  mind  and  often  a  divine  mind,  as  the  necessary  and 
indispensable  cause  of  the  existence  of  anything  whatever. 


42  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

Now,  as  before  said,  we  have  no  intention  of  entering 
upon  any  question  touching  religion  in  this  work,  but  merely 
of  treating  of  such  questions  as  seem  to  us  necessary  for  any 
investigation  of  Epistemology. 

We  have,  therefore,  no  intention  of  denying  that  the  ex- 
istence of  a  divine  mind  is  a  necessary  condition  for  the 
existence  of  anything  else,  and  we  have  just  as  little  intention 
of  affirming  it.  But  we  are  perfectly  convinced  that  objects 
and  substances  can,  because  they  do,  exist  apart  from  our 
own  mind  and  apart  from  any  mind  we  can  have  any  direct 
knowledge  of,  or  even  imagine,  as  existing.  Certainly  we 
have  no  direct  perception,  no  intuition,  of  the  existence  of 
a  God ;  nor  do  we  believe  that  such  an  intuition  exists  in 
the  minds  of  other  men,  while  we  (our  individual  selves) 
have  a  direct  perception,  an  intuition,  of  the  existence  of  a 
real,  extended,  external  world  existing  independently  of  our 
own  mind  and  of  any  mind,  as  above  stated. 

Anyhow,  we  are  convinced  that  the  existence  of  a  God 
can  only  be  known  through  a  process  of  inference  based 
upon  things  and  actions  perceived ;  and  it  appears  to  us  a 
very  illogical  proceeding  to  affirm  that  objects  cannot  be 
perceived  save  as  related  to  a  certain  entity,  which  entity 
itself  cannot  possibly  be  known  to  us  except  by  the  help  of 
objects  not  perceived  as  being  so  related. 

Nevertheless  (as  we  think),  idealism  enshrines  an  import- 
ant truth,  namely,  the  truth  that  our  apprehension  of  the 
world  about  us  is  much  less  perfect  and  complete  than  is 
often  supposed.  Our  perceptive  powers  are  inadequate  to 
supply  us  with  a  complete  knowledge  of  nature,  which,  as  it 
appears  to  us,  may  be  very  different  from  what  it  might 
appear  to  any  intelligences  higher  than  our  own. 

It  is  certain^-quite  apart  from  any  system  of  idealism — 
that  the  material  bodies  about  us  (assuming  that  there  are 
such  bodies)  must  possess  powers  and  qualities  which  our 


THE   OBJECTS  OF  SCIENCE  43 

present  senses  are  entirely  unable  to  detect.  Had  we  (as  be- 
fore suggested)  an  organ  of  sense  fitted  to  enable  us  to  ap- 
prehend "  magnetism,"  as  our  eyes  enable  us  to  apprehend 
"  light,"  how  modified  might  not  the  aspect  of  the  world 
become  !  We  rejoice  in  the  beauty  of  wild  flowers  and  the 
gay  plumage  of  biijds,  some  of  which  delight  us  with  their 
song;  yet,  though  we  are  not  idealists,  we  do  not  hesitate 
to  affirm  that  their  colours  and  their  notes  are  not  by  any 
means  just  that  which  they  seem  to  us  to  be.  The  most 
startling  and  impressive  lesson  we  have  had  in  the  present 
century  is  that  taught  us  by  the  Rontgen  rays — like  light, 
yet  so  different  from  it — with  such  unexpected  powers  of 
penetration  that  wood  is  to  them,  as  it  were,  translucent, 
as  the  iron  rod  of  a  lightning-conductor  is  for  electricity  a 
tube  down  which  it  tumbles. 

We  may  seem  to  have  thus  delivered  ourselves  up  to  the 
idealists  with  our  hands  bound ;  yet  such  is  by  no  means  the 
case.  We,  however,  most  willingly  acknowledge  the  merits 
and  the  intellectual  gifts  of  its  supporters.  But  those  sup- 
porters are  nevertheless  relatively  very  few  in  number,  in 
spite  of  the  great  temptations  and  the  two  special  attractions 
which  idealism  holds  out  to  inquirers  about,  and  students 
of,  philosophy. 

Its  first  attraction  for  them  consists  in  the  fact  that  the 
system  is  exceedingly  easy  of  comprehension.  No  difficult 
and  sustained  acts  of  mental  introspection  are  needed  to 
understand  it.  All  that  is  required  is  to  see  clearly  the  dif- 
ference  between  "  things  "  and  their  "  qualities,"  to  recog- 
nise that  no  "  things  "  can  become  known  to  us  except 
through  their  "  qualities,"  and  to  recollect  that  all  the  ex- 
perience we  have  of  these  consists  in  our  own  sensations, 
imaginations,  and  perceptions. 

The  second  attraction  which  idealism  presents  is  due  to 
the  fact  that  it  seems  to  carry  the  novice  in  philosophy  into 


44  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

a  region  very  much  above  that  of  ordinary  men.  For  him 
a  wonderful  change  has  taken  place.  What  common  persons 
regard  as  the  most  stubborn  and  solid  realities  he  is  enabled 
to  transform  into  an  airy  pageant  consisting  of  nothing  more 
substantial  than  a  ceaseless  series  of  feelings  and  ideas;  yet 
all  the  time  his  elevated  position  causes  him  no  practical  in- 
convenience, because  it  is  the  boast  of  his  philosophy  that 
it  in  no  way  contradicts  the  assertions  of  common-sense,  but 
only  denies  the  existence  of  what  no  one  ever  did  or  ever 
can  perceive,  namely,  "  material  substance." 

He  may  also  assert — though,  as  we  shall  shortly  see,  in 
this  he  is  mistaken — that  idealism  is  not  out  of  harmony 
with  "  science  "  any  more  than  it  is  irreconcilable  with 
"  common-sense  "  ;  and  he  can  certainly  appeal  (as  before 
said)  to  distinguished  men  of  science  who  affirm  that  they 
are  idealists. 

Some  of  our  readers,  influenced  by  such  representations, 
may  be  inclined  to  say  to  us:  "  Why,  if  these  so-called 
'  facts  ' — bodies  and  their  activities — can  be  conveniently 
dealt  with  as  so  many  '  bundles  of  feelings,'  and  if  we  may 
speak  of  such  '  bundles  of  stably  associated  feelings  '  as 
'  objects '  and  '  things,'  why  should  we  not  be  content  so  to 
call  them  ?  Why  should  we  not  leave  all  disputes  about  the 
truths  of  idealism  on  one  side,  concern  ourselves  only  with 
what  both  parties  thus  agree  to  term  '  things  '  and  '  objects,' 
and  to  treat  them  as  if  they  were  really  independent  entities 
quite  external  to  the  mind  ?  " 

Certainly  we  do  not  for  one  moment  seek  or  wish  to  deny 
that  idealists  may  be  very  good  scientific  men,  and  do  excel- 
lent scientific  work ;  nor,  for  the  purposes  of  physical  science, 
are  the  conceptions  of  such  scientific  idealists  unserviceable 
for  the  scientific  ends  to  which  they  are  directed,  though  (as 
will  be  shortly  urged)  their  scientific  conceptions  are  not 
really  idealistic,  but  are  like  those  of  ordinary  persons. 


THE   OBJECTS  OF  SCIENCE  45 

Nevertheless,  as  we  have  before  observed,  for  our  present 
purpose  (namely,  the  exploration  of  the  groundwork  of 
science)  it  is  necessary  to  determine  whether  the  foundation 
of  science  is  entirely  mental  or  partly  mental  and  partly 
material ;  and  there  is  a  yet  graver  consideration  which  for- 
bids us  to  rest  contented  with  a  philosophical  concordat,  and 
compels  us  to  do  our  best  to  arrive  at  a  satisfying  solution  as 
to  the  system  of  idealism. 

This  yet  graver  consideration  refers  to  the  nature  of  our 
intellectual  faculties.  No  man  can  get  behind  human 
reason,  and  no  rational  man  will  make  any  attempt  so  to 
do.  A  belief  in  a  real,  external,  and  independent  world  of 
things  in  themselves  appears  to  most  men  to  be  an  abso- 
lutely certain  and  self-evident  truth.  But  if  idealism  is  true, 
then  "  absolutely  certain  self-evidence  "  can  be  no  sufficient 
guarantee  of  the  truth  of  that  for  which  it  vouches.  We 
should  thus  be  reduced  to  a  state  of  uncertainty  and  sceptic- 
ism, casting  a  shade  of  doubt  over  every  proposition  what- 
ever. But  in  such  a  state  of  mind  it  would  indeed  be  a 
hopeless  task  to  seek  to  investigate  the  groundwork  of 
science.  The  question  as  to  idealism  must  therefore  be 
examined  to  the  extent  of  our  ability  as  a  necessary  pre- 
liminary for  any  possible  satisfactory  conclusion  with  respect 
to  Epistemology. 

We  have  done  our  best  to  present  the  case  of  the  idealists 
fairly.  What  is  now  to  be  urged  on  the  other  side  ? 

In  the  first  place,  as  we  said  before,  most  men  are  not 
idealists.  Indeed,  the  professed  adherents  of  that  system 
constitute  but  a  very  small  portion  of  the  most  educated 
part  of  mankind.  Secondly,  even  idealists  themselves  can- 
not help  entertaining  and  acting  on  the  notions  common  to 
other  men.  It  is  not  merely  that  they  make  use  of  ordinary 
phraseology  about  "  perception  "  and  "  things  perceived," 
but  they  habitually — as  we  shall  shortly  see — give  to  the 


46  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

terms  they  use  the  ordinary  signification,  and  reserve  their 
idealistic  interpretation  for  the  time  they  are  occupied  with 
philosophising.  The  most  distinguishing  character  of  the 
notion  all  men  have  of  the  reality  of  an  extended,  external, 
independent  world,  is  the  absolute  inevitableness  of  that 
notion,  which  holds  sway  over  idealists  as  well  as  others. 

It  has  been  said  that  the  inevitable  character  of  this  notion 
is  due  to  "  natural  selection."  Men  who  did  not  promptly 
make  their  actions  accord  with  it,  would,  it  is  urged,  be  very 
quickly  eliminated,  and  only  those  most  ready  to  act  as  if 
an  independent  external  world  existed  would  survive.  Thus 
it  is  that  this  notion  has  become  ingrained  in  survivors. 

But,  as  we  shall  see  later  on,1  our  firmest,  clearest,  most 
certain  and  highest  perceptions  cannot  have  been  due  to 
"  natural  selection."  If,  therefore,  there  is  some  efficient 
cause  which  has,  independently  of  such  selection,  produced 
our  highest  and  most  certain  perceptions,  applicable  to  all 
ages  and  every  part  of  the  universe,  a  fortiori  it  could  have 
also  independently  produced  the  very  minor  effect  of  en- 
abling us  to  become  aware  of  the  present  state  of  the  world 
about  us.  We  shall  here  contend  that  such  awareness  is  of 
an  intuitive  character,  and  that  we  possess  a  direct  intuition 
of  "  the  extended  " — i.  e.,  of  the  various  extended  bodies 
which  make  up  the  material  world.  Nevertheless,  all  intui- 
tions do  not  stand  on  the  same  level,  and,  as  we  have  just 
implied,  our  intuition  about  "  extension  "  does  not  stand 
on  the  highest  level  but  on  one  below  that  upon  which 
rest  those  ultimate  first  principles  of  knowledge  with  which 
Epistemology  directly  deals,  and  which  will  be  carefully  con- 
sidered in  our  last  two  chapters.  Had  it  this  highest  degree 
of  certainty,  it  would  be  impossible  for  us  even  to  entertain 
about  it  that  sort  of  fictitious  doubt  which  idealists  possess, 
nor  could  any  dispute  take  place  as  to  whether  the  inevitable 

1  Chapter  ix. 


THE   OBJECTS  OF  SCIENCE  47 

character  of  our  notion  about  the  external  world  is  either  an 
inference  or  a  delusion. 

But  before  proceeding  to  argue  in  favour  of  the  reality  as 
well  as  the  inevitableness  of  our  conviction  as  to  an  external 
world,  it  may  be  well  to  state,  as  clearly  as  we  can,  what 
that  reality  according  to  us  is.  It  may  be  expressed  as 
follows : 

"  All  the  different  bodies  and  substances  of  the  universe 
about  us  really  exist  independent  of  the  mind,  and  with 
equal  reality,  whether  they  be  perceived  or  not.  Through 
our  senses  our  intellect  becomes  directly  aware  of  their 
existence,  as  '  things  of  themselves,'  and  of  some  of  their 
objective  qualities.  Those  qualities,  however,  are  unlike 
the  sensations  external  bodies  excite  in  us ;  though  our  per- 
ceptions, aroused  by  our  sensations,  do  correspond  to  such 
objective  qualities.  External  material  bodies  exist  inde- 
pendently of  us,  and  have  a  substantial  reality  in  addition 
to  that  of  the  qualities  we  perceive,  and  our  perception  of 
them  also  does  not  in  any  way  essentially  alter  them." 

That  this  position  is  the  true  one  is,  we  think,  shown  (i) 
by  the  natural  spontaneous  judgment  of  mankind ;  (2)  by 
the  careful  examination  of  the  dicta  of  our  own  mind,  and 
(3)  by  what  we  learn  through  science. 

The  first  of  these  three  arguments  meets  with  no  con- 
sideration on  the  part  of  idealists,  on  the  ground  that  to  the 
multitude  it  has  never  been  given  to  understand  what  ideal- 
ism is.  But  in  the  eyes  of  persons  who  are  not  idealists 
that  argument  may  well,  nevertheless,  have  some  value, 
since  it  is  plain  that  the  spontaneous  judgment  of  mankind 
accords  with  what  even  animals  practically  learn  through 
their  senses.  A  wide  river  is  an  objective  obstacle  to  the 
progress  of  a  man's  dog,  as  well  as  to  that  of  the  dog's 
owner;  and  a  rotten  fruit  on  the  ground  is  plainly  not  only 
an  external  reality  to  the  human  observer  of  it,  but  also  to 


48  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

the  various  insects  which  gather  on  its  surface.  Certainly 
those  who  hold  that  the  inevitable  nature  of  our  sentiments 
about  a  really  independent  external  world  has  been  produced 
by  the  action  of  "  natural  selection,"  must  allow  the  validity 
of  our  impressions  about  it,  since  they  suppose  it  was  the 
action  of  that  very  world  which  eliminated  those  persons 
whose  impressions  did  not  correspond  with  sufficient  ac- 
curacy to  fatal  objective  realities. 

But,  in  the  second  place,  let  the  inquirer  firmly  fix  his 
mental  gaze  upon  his  own  personal  experience,  as,  for  ex- 
ample, when  playing  a  game  of  billiards.  Is  it  possible  for 
him  to  believe,  as  he  cannons  and  "  goes  in  off  the  red," 
that  the  balls  he  perceives  are  but  groups  of  vivid  and  faint 
feelings,  and  not  real,  extended,  independently  existing 
bodies  which  really  move,  and,  by  striking,  impel  each  other 
in  different  directions  as  ordinary  people  think  they  do  ? 
Who  that  hears  the  pleasant  voices  of  his  children  as  they 
are  playing  in  the  garden,  or  even  when  silence  succeeds  to 
their  audible  merriment,  can  doubt  their  independent  object- 
ivity entirely  apart  from  his  own  feelings  ?  Should  shrill 
cries  break  that  silence,  and  the  father,  rushing  out,  find 
that  one  of  his  children  has  met  with  a  serious  mischance, 
not  only  his  feelings  and  his  actions,  but  his  inmost  thoughts, 
however  determined  an  idealist  he  may  be,  will  be  in  full 
accord  with  those  of  any  other  man  similarly  circumstanced. 
We  are  persuaded  the  more  the  reader  examines  into  the 
dictates  of  his  own  mind  during  his  actual  experiences  from 
day  to  day,  the  more  profoundly  he  will  be  impressed  by  a 
conviction  that  real  external  bodies — things  in  themselves — 
exist  and  act  independently  of  his  feelings,  wishes,  thoughts, 
or  perceptions,  and  that  he  has  full  and  valid  ground  to  be 
absolutely  certain  about  it.  This  will  be  brought  home  to 
anyone  with  special  vividness  while  undergoing  a  surgical 
operation  without  the  use  of  anaesthetics. 


THE   OBJECTS  OF  SCIENCE  49 

But  it  is  physical  science  which  specially  vouches  for  the 
reality  of  an  external  independent  world. 

The  advocates  of  idealism  generally  content  themselves 
with  explaining,  according  to  their  system,  some  of  our 
simple  perceptions — an  apple,  a  landscape,  the  furniture  of 
a  room,  trees  in  a  park,  books  in  a  library,  etc.  Such  things 
may  plausibly  be  represented  as  made  up  of  bundles  of 
feelings,  because  bundles  of  feelings  are  the  means  by  which 
we  perceive  them,  and  because  we  have  but  to  gaze  on  and 
contemplate  a  quiet  scene  devoid  of  conspicuous  interactions 
between  its  parts.  But  what  we  learn  through  science  is 
something  very  different:  it  is  a  systematic  investigation  as 
to  what  are  the  causes  of  different  phenomena  and  their 
various  modes  of  action  on  one  another.  It  has,  therefore, 
to  do  not  only  with  our  perceptions  themselves,  but  also 
with  the  causes  of  our  perceptions. 

Although,  as  before  said,  we  do  not  question  the  eminence 
or  the  services  of  men  of  science  who  are  idealists,  neverthe- 
less we  believe  idealism  to  be  fundamentally  out  of  harmony 
with  physical  science.  We  strongly  suspect  that  the  intel- 
lectual nature  of  idealistic  physicists  is  too  much  for  them ; 
and  that,  though  they  may  be  ever  ready  to  represent  the 
objects  of  their  study  and  experience  as  so  many  complex 
groups  of  feelings,  they  really  regard  them  (in  common  with 
other  people)  as  independent  objects  with  special  qualities 
and  powers.  We  think  thus  because,  though  (as  we  have 
just  observed)  it  is  easy  enough  to  translate  mere  objects 
perceived  into  groups  of  feelings  and  relations  between 
them,  it  is  much  more  difficult  to  investigate  and  describe 
the  reciprocal  actions  of  objects  (as,  e.  g.,  of  the  sun  and 
moon  on  the  tidal  wave)  as  only  relations  between  ideas 
and  not  as  activities  of  external,  absolutely  independent  ex- 
tended things  which  really  affect  each  other. 

There  can  be  no  question  about  the  fact  that  observations 


5<D  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

and  experiments  are  accepted  by  scientific  men  as  real 
objective  facts  and  occurrences,  and  the  whole  of  physical 
science,  understood  as  men  of  science  themselves  understand 
it,  is  based  upon  that  way  of  regarding  them.  It  would  be 
ridiculous  to  pretend  that  when  astronomers,  chemists,  and 
anatomists  are  tracing  the  motions  of  the  heavenly  bodies, 
or  analysing  minerals,  or  ascertaining  the  course  followed  by 
a  nerve  or  an  artery,  they  remain  all  the  time  convinced  that 
they  are  really  investigating  the  relations  borne  by  groups 
of  past  and  present  feelings  to  other  such  groups,  and 
nothing  more! 

It  is  very  certain  that,  but  for  their  conviction  they  were 
dealing  with  independent  realities  and  discovering  really  ob- 
jective truths,  the  physical  sciences  would  never  have  at- 
tained their  present  degree  of  development.  If  idealism 
were  true,  then  the  advance  of  science  must  simply  have 
been  due  to  a  profound  mistake,  and,  the  mistake  having 
been  once  found  out,  can  we  believe  that  scientific  advance 
would  continue,  or  could  even  maintain  itself  where  it  is  ? 

The  attempt  has  been  made  more  than  once,  and  with 
admirable  perseverance,  to  describe  truths  of  physical 
science  in  terms  of  feeling  and  no  more;  and  the  attempt 
has  always  ended  (as  it  must  always  end)  in  complete  failure. 

A  few  concrete  examples  may  bring  home  to  the  reader 
the  intenseness  and  inevitability  with  which  the  notion  of 
external  things  in  themselves,  really  existing  independently 
of  the  mind,  is  forced  home  upon  the  intelligence  of  the 
man  of  science  by  his  own  pursuits. 

Leverrier,  by  studying  the  movements  of  the  planet 
Uranus,  came  to  the  conclusion  that  they  were  influenced 
by  some  external  body  in  such  a  way  as  to  lead  him  to  be- 
lieve that  Uranus  was  not,  as  up  to  that  time  supposed,  the 
planet  of  the  solar  system  which  was  most  distant  from  the 
sun,  but  that  there  must  be  another  revolving  round  that 


THE   OBJECTS  OF  SCIENCE  51 

luminary  at  a  yet  greater  distance.  After  further  study  he 
predicted  the  place  in  the  heavens  where  that  yet  more  dis- 
tant orb  would  be  found.  The  prediction  was  put  to  the 
test,  with  the  result  that  the  planet  now  known  as  Neptune 
was  there  found.  In  this  instance  science  did  not  merely 
predict  that  a  new  body  (for  idealism  "  a  new  group  of  feel- 
ings ")  would  be  found  if  looked  for,  but  it  affirmed  "  how  " 
and  "  why  "  it  would  be  so  found.  It  was  a  statement  as 
to  causation. 

Another  memorable  prediction,  in  another  science,  was 
made  by  Cuvier.  The  fossil  skeleton  of  a  small  beast  having 
been  found  in  the  quarries  of  Montmartre,  the  great  French 
naturalist,  seeing  a  peculiar  conformation  in  its  jaw,  foretold 
that  when  the  lower  part  of  the  trunk  was  laid  bare,  two 
peculiar  bones — present  in  but  few  beasts — would  there  be 
found.  Friends  assembled  to  see  the  prediction  verified, 
and  it  was  verified. 

The  late  Sir  Richard  Owen  ventured  to  affirm  that  a  huge 
extinct  animal  of  South  America  (which  had  been  furnished 
with  very  powerful  limbs  and  tail)  had  been  in  the  habit  of 
obtaining  its  nourishment  by  uprooting  trees  and  then  feed- 
ing on  their  leaves.  It  was  objected  to  this  hypothesis  that 
had  animals  of  that  kind  really  been  in  the  habit  of  so  pro- 
curing their  nourishment  they  would  now  and  again  have 
had  their  heads  broken  by  falling  trees.  Owen  thereupon 
re-examined  the  head  of  the  beast  which  had  been  the  sub- 
ject of  his  investigations  and  conjectures,  and  found  that  its 
head  had  been  broken.  But  he  also  found  that  the  skull  of 
the  animal  was  so  constructed  as  to  enable  it  to.  endure  such 
fracture  with  very  little  inconvenience. 

How  can  these  facts  be  adequately  expressed  in  terms  of 
idealism  ?  Is  it  possible  to  regard  the  matters  thus  per- 
ceived as  but  groups  of  feelings  or  ideas  in  any  mind, 
human  or  non-human  ?  If  we  do  not  recognise  the  relation 


52  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

of  an  actually  "  falling  tree  "  as  a  cause  of  an  independently 
existing  "  fractured  skull,"  the  whole  point  and  meaning  of 
the  venerable  naturalist's  sagacious  inference  would  be  lost. 

Similarly  with  respect  to  the  planets  Uranus  and  Nep- 
tune. The  philosophy  of  idealism  puts  before  us  nothing 
but  groups  of  feelings — or  ideas  in  the  idealistic  sense  of 
the  word — which  co-exist  and  succeed  arbitrarily  without 
any  rational  order  or  any  evident  reason  why  they  should  so 
co-exist  or  succeed.  The  idealist  cannot  say  why  the  group 
of  feelings  he  calls  "  the  movements  of  Uranus  "  should  be 
related  to  another  set  of  feelings,  distinguished  as  "  the  in- 
fluence of  an  external  body,"  or  why  the  feelings  known  as 
"  looking  through  a  telescope  "  should  be  succeeded  by 
those  called  "  seeing  the  planet  Neptune." 

And  modern  science  teaches  us  not  only  that  real,  ex- 
tended, material  bodies  interact  upon  each  other  apart  from 
anybody  perceiving  them,  but  also  that  they  so  interacted 
for  untold  ages  before  any  human  mind  existed.  It  tells  us 
that  the  world,  at  first  devoid  of  life,  became  fitted  for  it, 
and  ultimately  fit  for  mind.  The  view  which  science  opens 
to  us  concerning  the  fact  may  be  briefly  expressed  thus: 
After  an  unknown  but  vast  period  of  time,  what  we  regard 
as  the  oldest  rocks  yet  extant  were  deposited,  and  after 
multitudes  of  lower  forms  of  life  had  had  their  day  and  dis- 
appeared, huge  reptiles  came  upon  the  scene,  swam  in  the 
ocean,  sported  in  lakes  and  rivers,  browsed  in  ferny  forests, 
and  flitted  through  the  air,  all  to  disappear  before  the  white 
chalk  of  our  Downs  was  finally  deposited.  Then  beasts  and 
birds,  strangely  unlike  those  which  yet  live,  came  into  being 
and  passed  away  unseen  by  any  human  eye.  Genus  suc- 
ceeded to  genus  and  species  to  species.  Gigantic  long-armed 
apes  bounded  through  the  forests  of  Southern  France,  and 
many  kinds  of  monkeys  chattered  in  the  woods  of  what  is 
now  Greece.  At  last  the  human  form  walked  for  the  first 


THE   OBJECTS   OF  SCIENCE  53 

time  on  the  earth's  surface,  and  then  came  races  destined 
to  dwell  for  centuries  in  caves,  rudely  chipping  flints  for 
weapons,  but  by  degrees  exhibiting  signs  of  an  innate  love 
for  art.  Race  succeeded  race,  till  at  last  came  those  whose 
annals  constitute  the  dawn  of  history  and  from  whom  we 
proceed.  Such  is  the  teaching  of  science.  Such  is  that 
process  of  evolution  in  our  world,  which  it  declares  to  be 
certain  and  indisputable. 

But  how  is  it  possible  to  describe  such  relations  and  con- 
ditions in  the  language  of  idealism  ? 

If  idealism  were  true,  evolution  would  indeed  be  nothing 
but  a  dream,  nor  could  any  branch  of  physical  science  be 
considered  more  substantial. 

If  nothing  exists  but  feelings  and  "  ideas,"  and  some  un- 
perceived  cause — theistic,  pantheistic,  or  atheistic — which 
produces  them,  then  everything  must  depend  upon  the 
action  of  that  agent,  and  all  secondary  causes  and  interac- 
tions, such  as  those  by  which  one  body  is  supposed  to  act 
on  another,  can  be  nothing  but  deceitful  illusory  appear- 
ances. 

But  since  physical  science  largely  consists  in  a  search  after 
secondary  causes  and  the  laws  of  the  interaction  of  bodies 
one  on  another,  a  system  which  can  have  nothing  to  say  to 
either  must  be  quite  useless  to  such  science. 

It  is  indeed  the  fact  that,  while  following  their  special 
scientific  pursuits,  idealists  must,  temporarily,  if  tacitly,  ab- 
jure their  idealism.  As  men  of  science  it  is  impossible  for 
them  to  be  idealists,  and  this  some  of  them  confess,  candidly 
avowing  that  it  would  be  absurd  to  try  to  describe  scientific 
processes  and  state  scientific  conclusions  in  idealist  phrase- 
ology, while  all  that  science  needs  is  to  describe  co-existences 
and  successions  of  appearances  and  in  no  way  to  explain 
them.  But  surely  such  avowals  amount  to  nothing  less  than 
a  condemnation  of  the  system  which  makes  them  necessary. 


54  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

Physical  science  requires  us  to  admit  the  absolute  reality 
of  extended  bodies  which  can  move  or  be  moved,  and  which 
have  real  objective  relations  of  number  and  position  and 
really  act  and  react  on  one  another.  Newton's  discovery  is 
much  more  than  a  mere  description  of  appearances,  and  of 
the  theory  of  evolution  the  same  may  certainly  be  affirmed. 
Any  system  of  philosophy,  therefore,  which  denies  the  ob- 
jective reality  of  primary  qualities,  cannot  serve  as  a  ground- 
work of  science.  Either  physical  science  has  no  foundation 
at  all  or  its  groundwork  is  other  than  idealistic. 

Now,  according  to  received  idealism  the  world  is  consti- 
tuted by  "  relations,"  the  source  of  which  is  a  "  mind  "  or 
"  thinking  subject." 

Certainly  no  object  can  exist  without  relations.  These 
are  real  objective  relations  of  which  the  mind  is  not  the 
"  source  "  but  the  "  observer."  The  immense  majority  of 
these  objective  relations  exist  in  independent  objectivity, 
and  would  continue  so  to  exist  were  every  mind  imaginable 
by  us  annihilated.  On  the  other  hand,  it  is  surely  too 
absurd  to  regard  the  world  as  made  up  of  relations  without 
objects  which  are  related. 

The  mind  in  perceiving  these  "  objective  relations  " — i.  e., 
the  circumstances  in  which  different  things  stand  to  each 
other — cannot,  of  course,  do  so  without  having  correspond- 
ing subjective  mental  perceptions,  which  may  be  termed 
"  subjective  relations  " — since  they  make  known  to  us  the 
corresponding  "objective"  ones.  But  the  latter  exist 
quite  independent  of  any  imaginable  mind.  Our  perceiving 
or  not  perceiving  them  is  a  mere  accident  of  such  relations, 
and  in  no  way  affects  them  save  as  regards  their  being  or 
not  being  perceived. 

A  simple  illustration  or  two  will,  we  think,  make  this 
clear.  Thus,  e.  g. ,  a  definite  relation  exists  between  a  piece 
of  rock  and  a  volcano  in  eruption  which  ejected  it,  but  this 


THE   OBJECTS   OF  SCIENCE  55 

relation  is  substantially  similar  between  a  rock  and  volcano 
perceived  and  a  rock  and  volcano  of  the  Antarctic  Continent 
which  never  have  been  perceived,  or  between  a  rock  and  a 
volcano  on  the  averted  surface  of  the  moon,  if  such  things 
there  exist.  Multitudes  of  relations  probably  exist  between 
various  heavenly  bodies,  which  relations  existed  long  before 
the  formation  of  our  solar  system. 

But  idealists  may  be  asked  the  following  question :  If  all 
the  truth  concerning  the  universe  consists  not  in  the  existence 
of  extended  things,  but  in  relations  essentially  "  mental" 
how  comes  it  that  the  outcome  has  been  the  production  of 
what  idealists  must  regard  as  a  universal  delusion  ?  For 
the  practically  universal  belief  of  mankind  that  external,  in- 
dependent, extended  bodies  really  exist  on  all  sides  of  us 
must,  in  their  eyes,  be  just  such  a  delusion.  A  philosophy 
with  such  a  result  hardly  commends  itself  to  the  inquirer 
after  the  ultimate  tests  and  grounds  of  truth. 

We  therefore  do  not  hesitate  to  affirm  that  the  existence 
of  the  "  extended  " — that  is,  of  real,  independent,  external, 
and  extended  bodies — is  an  intuition.  It  is  a  revelation 
concerning  the  world  about  us  directly  apprehended  by  our 
intellect  through  the  medium  of  our  sense-perceptions.  It 
is  a  fact  certainly  true,  and  shown  so  to  be  by  its  own  evi- 
dence. '  Why  "  extended  things  exist  and  "  how  "  they 
exist  we  know  not,  and  may  never  be  able  to  know ;  but 
that  they  do  exist  is  a  truth  intuitively  perceived,  and  this  it 
is  which  gives  to  our  perception  of  the  external  world  that 
character  of  "  inevitableness  "  which  has  been  recognised  as 
pertaining  to  it.  The  possession  of  this  direct  intellectual 
apprehension,  together  with  the  need  for  us  of  the  due  action 
of  our  organs  of  sense  to  call  it  forth,  well  explains  both 
our  power  of  directly  perceiving  what  idealists  are  unable  to 
understand  our  perceiving,  and  also  the  obscurity  and  con- 
fusion into  which  idealists  themselves  have  fallen. 


56  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

It  is  no  doubt  a  wonderful  thing  that  such  apparently  im- 
perfect means  as  our  organs  of  sense  and  general  bodily 
organisation  supply,  should  enable  us  to  know  so  much 
concerning  the  world  about  us — the  extension  of  bodies  and 
their  relations  as  to  size,  shape,  solidity,  motion,  and  num- 
ber,— yet  it  is  not  more  wonderful,  essentially,  than  is  the 
rest  of  our  knowledge  and,  in  fact,  the  whole  of  our  mental 
powers.  How  we  get  any  knowledge  at  all,  how  we  see 
objects,  how  we  feel  anything  is  most  mysterious,  and  all 
our  knowledge,  deeply  considered,  is  very  wonderful.  On 
the  occurrence  of  certain  changes  in  our  bodies,  induced  by 
surrounding  agencies,  we  experience ' 4  sensations. ' '  Through 
such  sensations  (actual  and  remembered)  sense-perceptions 
are  aroused,  and  by  the  aid  of  mental  abstraction  ideas  are 
called  forth,  and  we  perceive  what  we  know  to  be  "  external 
objects."  Through  our  own  activities  and  by  things  done 
to  us  we  recognise  our  existence,  our  feelings,  and  our  ac- 
tions. Nothing  can  be  more  wonderful  than  our  faculty  of 
memory,  which  gives  us  absolutely  certain  knowledge  of  a 
continuously  existing  being — our  own  self — the  continuous- 
ness  of  which  it  is  impossible  for  our  senses  to  perceive,  for 
they  can  perceive  nothing  but  what  is  present  to  them. 
There  is  really  no  more  difficulty  in  our  perception  of  the 
external  world  about  us  than  in  our  experiencing  a  sensation 
of  azure  or  of  sweetness.  The  fact  is  so,  and  we  perceive  it 
to  be  so ;  and  the  act  by  which  we  do  this  is  no  more  really 
marvellous  in  one  case  than  in  the  other ;  or  rather  every  act 
of  knowledge  is  alike  marvellous.  We  know  things,  and 
we  know  that  we  know  them.  How  we  know  them  is  a 
mystery  indeed,  but  one  about  which  it  is  idle  to  speculate, 
as  it  is  absolutely  insoluble.  The  oft-repeated  question 
"  How  is  knowledge  possible  ?  "  is  therefore  one  of  the  most 
idle  and  futile  questions  which  can  be  asked. 

It  is  an  absurd  question,  because  it  leads  to  a  regressus  ad 


THE   OBJECTS   OF  SCIENCE  57 

infinitum.  To  every  possible  reply  to  it,  giving  some  ex- 
planation of  its  possibility,  it  may  be  rejoined  "  but  how  is 
our  knowledge  of  that  explanation  possible  ?"  and  so  on 
forever.  We  cannot  (once  more)  get  behind  the  intellect, 
and  therefore  no  ultimate  explanation  of  our  intellectual 
power  is  possible.  No  intellectual  perception  can  be  more 
than  self-evidently  true.  We  are  compelled  to  trust  our 
intellect,  as  we  are  compelled  to  trust  that  we  are  not  mad; 
and  that  we  are  not  altogether  mad  or  deluded  is  shown  us 
by  the  fact  of  our  seeing  quite  clearly  that  if  we  were  de- 
luded our  judgments  could  not  be  trustworthy. 

The  mystery  of  knowledge  runs  parallel,  as  we  have  just 
said,  to  the  mystery  of  sensation.  We  feel  things  savoury 
or  odorous  or  brilliant  or  melodious,  as  the  case  may  be; 
and,  with  the  aid  of  the  scalpel  and  the  microscope,  we  may 
investigate  the  material  conditions  of  such  sensations.  But 
how  such  conditions  can  give  rise  to  the  feelings  themselves 
is  a  mystery  which  defies  our  utmost  efforts  to  penetrate. 
Yet,  because  we  cannot  discover  this,  we  never  doubt  our 
sensations  or  the  fact  that  we  feel  them ;  and  we  have  as 
little  reason  to  doubt  our  intellectual  intuitions  or  the  facts 
we  know  as  made  evident  to  our  intellect  through  our 
feelings. 

By  our  recognition  of  this  direct  intellectual  intuition  of 
the  existence — and,  in  part,  the  nature — of  things  around 
us,  science  and  its  progress  can  be  both  understood  and  ad- 
vanced without  the  denial  of  one  single  fact  for  which  ideal- 
ism vouches.  Its  affirmations  are  justified  while  its  negations 
can  by  such  recognition  be  shown  to  be  unreasonable  though 
explicable,  and  almost  necessary  upon  that  conception  of 
the  nature  of  ideas  which  idealism  adopts,  and  the  insecure 
basis  upon  which  it  builds. 

By  its  affirmations,  our  feelings  are  correctly  described, 
but  its  great  fault  is  its  non-appreciation  of  the  profound 


58  THE    GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

difference  which  exists  between  them  and  our  ideas,  and  its 
consequent  practical  negation  of  the  higher  source  of  all  our 
knowledge.  That  the  affirmations  of  idealism  are  justified 
is  unquestionable.  Idealists  rightly  affirm  that,  as  we  have 
before  pointed  out,1  we  can  know  nothing  without  the  aid 
of  our  sensations,  that  a  plexus  of  our  own  feelings  accom- 
panies every  one  of  our  perceptions,  and  that  not  even  our 
most  abstract  ideas  are  destitute  of  such  accompaniments. 
In  our  first  chapter  we  endeavoured  at  some  length  to  make 
clear  the  profound  distinction  which  exists  between  "  feel- 
ings," however  complexly  associated  together,  and  intel- 
lectual conceptions,  and  a  similar  distinction  exists  between 
(i)  the  associated  plexuses  of  feelings,  vivid  and  faint,  which 
constitute  a  "sense-perception"  of  an  object — an  act 
which  cannot  truly  be  called  intellectual,  but  seems  to  be 
merely  a  form  of  sensitivity — and  (:2)  the  non-sensuous 
activity,  which  is  an  intellectual  perception a — an  act  of 
"  consciousness." 

The  latter  is  not  the  mere  apprehension  of  an  object  as  an 
individual  "  thing,"  3  but  as  a  "  thing  of  a  certain  kind," 
and  the  recognition  that  it  is  such  is  the  result  of  our  power 
of  abstraction.  Idealists  are  too  apt  to  confound  "  sensuous 
universals  "  with  true  ones.  A  sensuous  universal  is  a  mere 
blurred  or  defective  mental  image  of  an  object  which  has 
been  produced  by  the  successive  experience  of  a  variety  of 
individual  objects  of  the  same  kind.  Thus  the  successive 
sensuous  impressions  produced  by  a  number  of  horses, 
different  in  size,  colour,  and  somewhat  in  shape,  have,  of 
course,  their  effect  upon  the  imagination,  and  reminiscences 
of  these  concur  with  freshly  received  impressions  to  aid  us  in 
eliciting  the  perception  and  idea  of  a  horse  by  a  direct  intel- 
lectual act.  But  that  the  intellectual  perception  and  idea 
of  a  "  horse  "  is  not  a  mere  amalgam  of  modified  imagina- 

1  See  ante,  p.  9.       8  See  ante,  p.  9.       3  See  ante,  p.  6. 


THE   OBJECTS  OF  SCIENCE  59 

tions,  or  a  mere  generalised  mental  image,  is  plain  from  the 
fact  that  the  imaginations  which  have  helped  to  call  it  forth, 
may  persist  in  the  mind  side  by  side  with  it,  which  they 
evidently  could  never  do  if  the  idea  was  made  up  of  such 
imaginations. 

A  true  universal — the  intellectual  conception  supported 
by  the  sensuous  universal — is  a  single  idea  called  forth  by 
a  natural  activity  of  the  mind,  and  is  by  no  means  a  mere 
collection  or  residuum  of  blurred  sensuous  impressions.  Our 
power  of  abstraction  instantaneously  analyses  the  thing 
perceived  into  its  ideal  qualities,  and  also  synthesises  them 
as  belonging  to  a  really  existing  concrete  object.  It  appre- 
hends both  the  object's  concrete  individuality  (that  it  is 
"  this  thing  here  ")  and  also  the  kind  to  which  it  pertains 
(that  it  is  a  member  of  a  group,  which,  as  a  group,  exists 
only  in  the  mind). 

How  different  is  the  intellectual  apprehension  from  the 
sensuous  affection  is  clear  from  the  fact  that  changes  in 
such  sensuous  affections  may  only  render  the  intellectual 
apprehension  a  more  complete  and  perfect  unity.  Thus,  if  a 
solid  cube  be  suspended  by  a  string  and  then  turned  round 
before  us,  we  can  never  see  all  its  surfaces  at  once,  and  its 
square  faces,  as  we  see  them  in  perspective,  do  not  look 
square  but  lozenge-shaped.  Nevertheless,  these  incomplete, 
defective  signs  not  only  serve  to  give  us  an  accurate  per- 
ception of  the  cube,  but  its  revolution,  though  it  changes 
our  sensuous  impressions,  only  makes  our  intellectual  con- 
ception more  complete  and  stable — while  the  former  changes, 
the  latter  remains  the  same  throughout. 

Thus  every  material  object  whereof  our  senses  can  take 
cognisance,  has  various  qualities — its  size,  shape,  solidity, 
colour,  etc. — and  acts  upon  our  senses  accordingly. 

Its  qualities  affect  us  in  response  to  our  activities  of  eye, 
ear,  hand,  etc.  Our  two  eyes  form  two  slightly  discordant 


60  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

images  of  it,  and  our  hands  and  arms  may  give  us  numbers 
of  synchronous  and  successive  feelings  respecting  it.  Sim- 
ultaneously with  these  sensuous  impressions,  we  have  a  per- 
ception of  the  object  and  its  qualities.  But  that  perception 
is  by  no  means  correspondingly  multiform.  The  per- 
ception is  one  intellectual  cognition  resulting  from  a  multi- 
tude of  sensations  and  reminiscences.  Our  attention  may, 
of  course,  be  directed  to  any  one  of  its  qualities,  but  if  so, 
what  we  then  directly  perceive  is  no  longer  the  thing  itself 
but  the  quality  in  question. 

As  it  is  with  the  revolving  cube,  so  also  changes  produced 
by  our  own  movements  may  make  our  intellectual  cognition 
of  what  surrounds  us  more  unchanging.  When  walking  in 
Notre  Dame,  as  we  progress,  the  pillars  of  the  double  row 
of  columns  on  either  side  of  its  nave  successively  change 
their  relative  positions  in  our  eyes.  Yet  they  remain  in 
reality  unchanging,  and  by  the  experiences  thus  received 
we  gain  a  clearer  intellectual  apprehension  of  their  true 
relative  positions  than  we  could  do  by  remaining  fixed  to 
one  spot. 

Some  opponents  affirm  that  what  is  really  different  be- 
tween a  mere  sense-perception  and  an  intellectual  perception 
of  an  object,  is  that  to  the  latter  a  word  is  applied,  and  that 
apart  from  this  word  there  would  be  no  difference.  Such  a 
view  is,  of  course,  the  teaching  of  the  oft-refuted  system 
known  as  "  Nominalism." 

That  the  essence  of  intellectual  perception  and  conception 
does  not  lie  in  the  word,  is  shown  by  the  fact  that  the  same 
idea  may  be  made  known  by  different  words, different  modes 
of  speech,  and  even  by  gesture  language. 1  But  it  is  plain  that 
if  the  intellect  had  not  universal  ideas,  then  general  terms, 
such  as ' '  dog, "  "  horse, ' '  etc. ,  would  be  meaningless.  It  may 
also  be  asked  how  general  terms  ever  came  to  be,  if  the  mind 

1  See  below,  Chapter  vii. 


THE   OBJECTS   OF  SCIENCE  6 1 

knew  nothing  but  individual  things  ?  Again,  even  nominal- 
ists must  profess  to  understand  the  meanings  of  certain 
words;  but  since  almost  all  words  are  universals,  it  is  plain 
that  they  could  not  understand  them  unless  they  really 
possessed  universal  ideas.  If  we  can  perceive  the  general 
nature  of  certain  words,  why  not  of  other  things  also  ?  But 
nominalists  agree  with  idealists  in  one  fundamental  error. 
They  confuse  the  objects  of  cognition  with  the  means  of 
cognition,  not,  as  before  said,  because  they  pay  any  excep- 
tional attention  to  their  feelings,  but  because  they  regard 
what  are  really,  for  both  idealists  and  non-idealists,  "  ob- 
jects perceived  ' '  as  being  mere  plexuses  of  feelings,  plexuses, 
therefore,  of  what  are  in  truth  but  "  means  of  perception." 
Objects  are  known  directly  by  means  of  our  mental  affec- 
tions. It  is  true  that  modern  idealists  describe  our  experi- 
ence as  made  up  of  "  perceptions"  ;  but  by"  perceptions  " 
they  mean  congeries  of  vivid  and  faint  feelings,  and  not  that 
direct  intellectual  cognition  which  exists  over  and  above, 
and  in  addition  to,  "  feelings  "  of  whatsoever  kind  they  may 
be.  Thus  our  perception  of  material,  external,  independent 
objects  they  declare  to  be  not  a  direct  intuition  but  an 
inference. 

The  term  "  inference  "  means,  as  we  all  know,  the  percep- 
tion by  our  mind  of  the  fact  that  one  truth  is  implicitly 
contained  in  other  truths  antecedently  known.  Now  it  is 
quite  true  that  an  inference,  though  if  it  exists  it  must  be 
conscious,  may  excite  our  attention  but  very  slightly  and  be 
rapidly  forgotten.  Can  our  perceptions  of  objects,  then, 
be  due  to  such  hasty,  little  adverted-to,  and  speedily  forgot- 
ten inferences  ?  Now  inferences,  even  of  that  kind,  can 
be  recognised  by  reflection  to  have  occurred  if  they  have 
done  so.  Thus,  if  we  have  on  a  dark  evening  mistaken  a 
stranger  for  a  friend,  we  can  recognise  afterwards  the  cir- 
cumstances which  occasioned  our  mistake,  and  made  us 


62  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

hastily  conclude  from  insufficient  evidence  that  the  fact  was 
otherwise  than  in  truth  it  was.  But  it  is  impossible  to 
recognise  the  presence  of  any  act  of  inference  in  our  ordinary 
perceptions  of  objects,  however  much  we  may  look  back  and 
analyse  such  perceptions.  When,  for  example,  after  having 
perceived  an  apple,  we  look  back  on  our  various  sensations 
thus  derived,  we  do  not  find  that  they  have  constituted  the 
premises  of  any  conclusion,  but,  on  the  contrary,  we  see 
that  they  have  directly  revealed  the  apple — they  have  made 
it  present  to  our  intellect.  It  is  thus  with  the  immense 
majority  of  our  perceptions.  Why,  then,  should  we  deem 
them  to  be  inferences,  when  they  exhibit  to  us  no  signs  of 
having  been  produced  by  an  inferential  process  ?  Is  it  one 
bit  more  wonderful  or  mysterious  that  we  should  perceive 
"objects"  than  that  we  should  perceive  "  inferences  "? 
An  "  inference  " — a  perception  that  one  thing  must  be  true 
because  its  truth  is  implicitly  contained  in  other  things — is 
surely  a  much  more  complex  and  involved  mental  process 
than  is  the  direct  perception  of  an  object.  For  this  reason, 
then,  if  for  no  other,  we  should  not  conclude  that  we  have 
made  use  of  a  process  of  "  inference  "  when  nothing  in  our 
minds  assures  us  that  we  have  really  done  so. 

What  probably  has  caused  some  persons  to  mistake  "  per- 
ception "  for  "  inference  "  is  the  fact  that  every  perception 
is  the  result  of  a  number  of  psychical  processes — sensations 
and  imaginations  associated  in  complex  groups  and  a  variety 
of  unconscious '  affections  also.  This  process  of  complex 
sensuous  association  it  is  which  seems  to  have  been  denoted 
under  the  self-contradictory  term,  "  unconscious  inference." 

Yet  if  our  perceptions  of  objects  were  "  inferences,"  then, 
since  no  inference  can  exist  without  data,  the  data  of  such 
perceptions  must  be  the  feelings  which  objects  occasion  in 
us.  But  if  that  were  the  case,  then  such  feelings  must  be 

1  As  to  this,  see  below,  Chapter  vi. 


THE   OBJECTS  OF  SCIENCE  63 

primarily  observed,  or  else  no  consequence  could  be  deduced 
from  them.  In  that  case  it  would  be  quite  true  to  charge 
idealists  with  mistaking  the  means  for  the  objects  of  percep- 
tion, and  in  spite  of  all  their  denials,  we  should  have  to 
affirm  that  they  do  direct  their  attention  upon  their  sensa- 
tions and  feelings  in  an  exceptional  and  most  misleading 
manner. 

But  that  "  perception  "  is  not  "  inference  "  is  very  plainly 
shown  by  the  fact  that  we  can  and  do  obtain  a  reflective 
assurance  of  the  truth  of  our  perceptions  when  we  clearly 
do  not  employ  inference  to  obtain  it. 

No  one  can  deny  that  there  is  a  plain  distinction  between 
"  attention  "  and  "  inference,"  and  we  may  gain  an  in- 
creased certainty  for  our  perceptions  by  acts  of  attention 
alone.  The  reader  will,  we  think,  readily  admit  that  he 
sometimes  perceives  an  object  consciously,  but  without 
paying  particular  attention  to  it;  and  that  when  his  atten- 
tion to  it  is  by  some  circumstance  aroused,  he  has  then  a 
far  clearer  consciousness  of  it  and  of  its  nature  than  before. 
He  can,  indeed,  thus  "  make  sure  "  by  merely,  as  it  were, 
tightening  his  sensuous  grasp  of  the  object  and  carefully 
focussing  his  sense-perceptions  regarding  it. 

Thus  perception  is  no  process  of  inference  from  known 
signs  to  a  before  unknown  notion  of  an  object,  but  is  a  spon- 
taneous interpretation  of  signs  (which  themselves  are  by  no 
means  expressly  adverted  to)  by  a  natural  power  the  mind 
possesses,  and  which  is  rapidly  perfected  by  exercise.  By 
it  we  gain  an  immediate  assurance  (and,  by  attention,  can 
gain  an  augmented  assurance)  that  a  perception  is  certain 
and  needs  no  proof. 

But  there  remains  one  supremely  important  point  to  con- 
sider. If  our  perceptions  were  "  inferences,"  our  intellect 
would  necessarily  be  thereby  altogether  stultified.  For  no 
"  inference  "  can  be  certain  which  does  not  repose  on  per- 


64  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

ceptions  previously  acquired  and  known  to  be  true.  If, 
therefore,  every  perception  .were  an  inference,  we  should  get 
a  rcgressus  ad  infinitum,  and  be  incapable  of  ever  acquiring 
a  perception  of  any  truth  whatever.  Anterior  to  all  possible 
truth,  we  must  know  truths  which  are  not  inferences,  which 
require  no  proofs  but  are  evident  in  themselves. 

The  fact  that  we  have  a  direct  and  immediate  knowledge 
of  objects  which  are  made  present  to  the  mind  through  our 
sensations,  is  a  fact  fatal  to  idealism.  It  alike  justifies  the 
spontaneous  and  reflective  declarations  of  our  own  minds, 
when  once  we  have  clearly  understood  the  great  difference 
which  exists  between  (i)  intellectual  conceptions  and  per- 
ceptions, and  (2)  their  merely  sensuous  accompaniments. 

The  conviction,  then,  that  science  is  really  concerned  not 
alone  with  thoughts  but  also  with  external,  independent, 
and  extended  realities,  is  so  far  justified. 

It  only  now  remains  for»us  to  consider  the  various  objec- 
tions which  have  been  brought  against  the  validity  of  this 
conviction. 

The  stock  objection  is  based  on  the  supposed  constant 
and  inevitable  delusion  we  are  led  into  by  our  sensations  of 
colour,  sound,  smell,  and  taste — the  secondary  qualities  of 
bodies — as  contrasted  with  their  primary  qualities  of  exten- 
sion, size,  shape,  number,  motion,  etc.  It  is  then  further 
argued  that  if  we  are  entirely  deceived  as  regards  the  second- 
ary qualities,  the  primary  qualities  can  be  in  no  better  case, 
each  of  them  being,  to  our  experience,  but  a  plexus  of  our 
own  feelings,  vivid  and  faint. 

And  we  freely  concede  that  in  this  idealists  are  so  far  right 
that  if  we  could  not  directly  know  things  in  themselves,  but 
only  the  impressions  they  make  on  us,  then  the  said  primary 
qualities  might  be  no  more  than  combinations  of  certain  of 
those  groups  of  muscular  feelings  and  feelings  of  effort  and 
resistance  which  have  been  made  use  of  by  us  in  acquiring 


THE   OBJECTS   OF  SCIENCE  65 

such  ideas.  Nevertheless,  there  is  a  great  difference  in  our 
notions  of  these  two  sets  (primary  and  secondary)  of  quali- 
ties. For,  in  the  first  place,  colours  and  sounds  are  each 
perceived  by  one  sense  only ;  but  in  examining  the  solidity, 
extension,  figure,  number,  and  motion  of  any  object  we 
perceive,  we  can  bring  various  modes  of  feeling  to  confirm 
the  evidence  of  vision.  We  find  also  that  doubt  as  to 
primary  qualities  carries  with  it  very  different  results  from 
a  disbelief  in  the  objective  validity  of  our  impressions  as  to 
secondary  ones.  If  we  became  convinced  that  nothing  in 
the  remotest  degree  like  the  secondary  qualities  we  know 
of  existed  in  the  perceived  objects  themselves,  the  world 
would  lose  very  much  of  its  charm  for  us.  Flowers  would 
have  lost  their  tints  as  well  as  their  fragrance,  and  the 
melpdy  of  birds,  no  less  than  their  brilliance  of  plumage, 
would  have  disappeared ;  but  otherwise  things  would  remain 
substantially  as  they  were.  But  with  the  disappearance  of 
primary  qualities  the  solid  earth  itself  would  vanish,  and  we 
should  even  lose  the  companionship  of  that  most  faithful 
ally — our  own  body !  If  we  hold  three  marbles  in  our  hand 
and  we  are  told  they  are  not  truly  of  the  tint  we  suppose,  or 
that  they  really  have  an  odour  of  garlic  which  escapes  our 
notice,  we  are  not  greatly  disturbed  thereby.  If,  however, 
it  were  asserted  to  us  that  they  were  not  three  and  not  solid 
objects  at  all,  that  we  could  not  touch  distinct  parts  of  the 
surface  of  any  one  of  them,  or  that  they  were  not  spherical 
in  shape,  or  that  when  we  dropped  them  from  one  hand  to 
the  other  there  was  no  real  motion  in  them  apart  from  our 
feelings  of  touch,  effort,  and  movement, — then,  if  we  were 
not  idealists,  we  should  consider  the  assertor,  if  serious,  to 
be  irrational,  or  that  he  regarded  our  own  rationality  as 
dubious. 

The  colour  of  any  object,  as  we  all  know,  is  said  to  be 
nothing  but  a  result  of  the  undulation  of  certain  waves  of 


66  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

light  reflected  from  its  surface  to  us,  and  we  are  asked  how 
there  can  possibly  be  any  real  resemblance  between  that 
condition  of  any  object,  which  causes  it  to  reflect  such 
waves,  and  our  sensations  of  colour  ?  How  also,  it  is  further 
asked,  can  there  be  any  possible  likeness  between  the  real 
condition  of  a  body  thrown  into  rapid  vibration  and  the 
sounds  those  rapid  vibrations  occasion  in  us  ?  As  well,  they 
exclaim,  might  a  wound  be  like  the  knife  which  inflicted  it 
— thus  tacitly  asserting  the  necessary  adequacy  of  a  cause 
for  its  effect ! 

Now,  of  course,  as  we  have  before  said,  no  subjective  feel- 
ing can  be  like  an  objective  quality  belonging  to  an  external 
object.  The  simplest  rustic,  with  his  senses  about  him, 
knows  as  much  philosophy  as  that.  But  he  also  knows  that 
there  are  in  external  things  real  qualities  which  give  rise  to 
the  feelings  he  experiences.  This  can  be  easily  ascertained 
(as  we  have  ascertained  it)  by  questioning  such  rustics  in 
language  they  can  understand.  The  conviction  they  really 
entertain  is  the  spontaneous  and  universal  conviction  of 
mankind,  from  a  Sussex  cowherd  to  the  greatest  philosopher 
of  Greece ;  and  a  spontaneous  and  universal  human  convic- 
tion should  be  accepted  and  acquiesced  in  unless  there  are 
valid  reasons  against  our  so  doing. 

We  must  here  revert  to  a  point  before  noticed.  In  our 
perception  of  any  object  it  is  made  present  to  our  mind  by 
feelings  to  which  we  do  not  advert.  Its  presence  is  a  pres- 
ence in  the  mind's  perception  and  not  in  the  feelings  (vivid 
and  faint)  which  accompany  such  perception.  Moreover, 
though  "  subjective  feelings  "  cannot  be  like  "  objective 
qualities"  there  may  nevertheless  be  a  true  correspondence 
between  our  subjective  perception  of  an  object  and  its  object- 
ive mode  of  existence.  For,  as  we  have  before  pointed  out,1 
we  can  know  things  which  never  were  and  never  could  be 

1  See  ante,  pp.  10,  n. 


THE   OBJECTS  OF  SCIENCE  6/ 

felt  or  imagined,  and  there  is  the  greatest  possible  difference 
between  "  feelings  "  and  "  ideas." 

Now  let  the  reader  examine  what  his  own  mind  tells  him, 
and  we  are  confident  he  will  see  that  in  perceiving  any 
body  to  be  one  body,  or  to  be  solid  or  to  be  extended  or  to  be 
moving,  he  has,  in  each  separate  case,  one  single  and  simple 
idea  and  not  an  amalgam  of  feelings  of  "  touch,"  "  press- 
ure," "  effort,"  and  "  sight,"  however  indispensable  such 
feelings  may  have  been  in  order  to  call  forth  perceptions  and 
ideas  of  unity,  solidity,  extension,  and  motion. 

Moreover,  the  idea  of  extension  may  exist  apart  from 
visual  feelings,  for  the  blind  have  it,  and  apart  from  tactual 
feelings,  for  it  is  given  by  sight  alone — especially  with  the 
twofold  grasp  of  objects  our  two  eyes  simultaneously  afford 
us.  That  an  idea  can  persist  unchanged  amidst  changing 
sensuous  experiences  and  remain  single  though  revealed  to 
us  by  sensuous  experiences  of  many  and  such  diverse  kinds, 
we  have  already  seen.1  That  feelings  of  different  kinds  are 
required  to  arouse  our  idea  of  extension,  does  not  show  that 
the  idea  is  a  plexus  of  feelings  any  more  than  that  "  coal  " 
is  "  digging  "  because  we  may  have  to  dig  in  order  to  obtain 
it.  The  nature  of  an  idea  and  the  modes  of  its  elicitation  or 
acquisition  are  two  very  different  things. 

Our  idea  of  "force"  again  becomes  known  to  us  by 
means  of  our  sense  of  effort,  of  resistance,  and  of  resistance 
overcome,  and  such  sensations  form  the  occasion  through 
and  by  which  our  intellect  comes  to  perceive  that  surround- 
ing bodies  have  powers  corresponding  to  our  own.  Some 
persons  pretend  that  we  thus  commit  the  absurd  mistake  of 
attributing  to  inanimate  bodies  around  us  activities  abso- 
lutely like  our  own.  But,  in  fact,  we  only  attribute  to  such 
bodies  powers  which  have  a  certain  analogy  with  our  own. 
If  we  try  to  pull  a  man  up  from  the  ground  and  fail  because 

1  See  ante,  pp.  59,  60. 


68  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

he  is  stronger  than  we  are,  and  if  we  try  to  raise  a  piece  of 
rock  and  fail  because  it  is  too  heavy,  we  can  indeed  perceive 
a  certain  analogy  between  the  effect  on  us  of  the  man  and 
the  rock,  but  the  difference  between  the  two  cases  is  also 
plainly  evident  to  the  intellect,  however  alike  may  be  our 
sensations  in  the  two  cases.  Similarly  with  respect  to 
our  ideas  of  "  number,"  "  extension,  "  etc.  By  means  of 
our  sensations,  and  the  relations  between  them,  we  arrive  at 
something  fundamentally  different  from  either — namely, 
an  apprehension  of  external,  objective  conditions  of  real,  in- 
dependent bodies.  But,  as  we  have  said  before,  these 
conditions  are  utterly  unlike  the  sensations  and  relations 
between  sensations  which  serve  to  make  such  objective 
conditions  known  to  us.  In  considering  these  things  we 
must  never  fail  to  recollect1  that  it  is  not  "  sense"  but 
"  intellect,"  not  our  "  feelings"  but  our  "  perceptions," 
which  are  our  ultimate  criteria  of  certainty  and  truth. 

And  our  intellect  surely  tells  us  that  by  means  of  our 
sensations  we  attain  to  a  certain  degree  of  truth  with  respect 
even  to  the  secondary  qualities  of  bodies,  and  certainly  even 
the  common  belief  on  the  subject  is  nearer  the  truth  than 
its  negation  can  be. 

We  are  sometimes  told  that  were  there  no  eyes  or  ears 
darkness  and  silence  would  be  universal.  Now  our  notion 
of  light  is  quite  inadequate  to  make  its  essential  nature 
known  to  us  as  it  might  be  known  by  some  intelligence  of  a 
higher  order  than  our  own.  But,  nevertheless,  if  light  as 
we  know  it,  and  sound  as  we  know  it,  are  imperfect  cogni- 
tions because  thus  subjective,  the  vepy  same  objection  ap- 
plies to  our  notions  of  "  darkness  "  and  "  silence."  They 
are  as  much  subjective  as  our  sensations  of  colour  or  melody. 
A  world  without  eyes  or  ears  would  be  neither  light  nor 
dark,  neither  sonorous  nor  silent,  but  in  a  condition  abso- 

1  See  ante,  pp.  13,  14. 


THE   OBJECTS  OF  SCIENCE  69 

lutely  unimaginable  by  us.  Yet  that  world  would  be  far 
more  like  the  brilliant  one  we  know  than  it  would  resemble 
one  plunged  in  darkness.  For  since  we  suppose  the  physi- 
cal forces,  sun,  moon,  and  stars,  meteors,  volcanoes,  and 
phosphorescent  organisms  to  exist  in  it  as  they  do  now,  all 
the  objective  conditions  of  light,  save  sense-organs,  would, 
by  the  hypothesis,  be  present,  while  the  objective  conditions 
of  what,  to  our  senses,  is  darkness,  would  not  be  present. 
Though  all  sensations  of  eye  and  ear  would,  of  course, 
vanish  from  such  a  world,  yet  the  objective  qualities  those 
sensations  reveal  to  us  would  continue  to  exist.  Other  per- 
sons, again,  think  that  they  get  nearer  to  the  absolute  truth 
of  things  by  considering  colours  and  sounds  to  be  really 
"  modes  of  motion  " — different  orders  and  different  degrees 
of  "  vibrations."  But,  as  we  have  seen,  the  very  same 
cavils  may  be  brought  against  the  validity  of  our  perceptions 
of  primary  qualities  as  against  our  perceptions  of  secondary 
ones.  In  that  case  "  vibrations  "  would  be  nothing  but  as- 
sociated, vivid  and  faint,  muscular  and  tactual  feelings,  and 
such  must  at  least  be  as  unlike  the  objective  causes  of  light, 
colour,  and  sound  as  are  the  conceptions  of  ordinary  persons 
with  respect  to  the  latter. 

Bearing  these  facts  in  mind,  let  us  once  more  consider 
some  objections  made  by  idealists  against  those  who  believe 
in  an  independent,  external  world  of  real,  extended  objects 
possessing  real,  objective  qualities. 

The  iridescent  tints  of  minutely  grooved  surfaces  do  not 
really  deceive  any  more  than  the  effects  of  coloured  lights 
or  tinted  glasses,  or  than  distant  mountains  which  look 
purple  make  us  suppose  that  they  are  actually  purple  when 
seen  close  at  hand. 

The  effects  of  bodily  injuries  are  often  cited  as  evidence 
of  the  untrustworthiness  of  judgments  our  sensations  induce. 
Men  who  have  had  a  leg  amputated  sometimes  feel  as  if  they 


7O  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

still  had  it,  and  also  feel  pains  in  their  vanished  toes.  But 
no  one  would  surely  be  so  foolish  as  to  pretend  that  our 
feelings,  or  even  our  perceptions,  are  independent  of  our 
bodily  organisation ;  if,  then,  that  organisation  be  impaired, 
the  action  of  our  sensitive  faculty  would  be  likewise  im- 
paired, nor  should  we  be  surprised  if  our  perceptions  were 
thereby  also  occasionally  misled.  If  our  normal  organisa- 
tion is  so  arranged  as  to  guide  us  right,  it  should  be  small 
wonder  to  us  if  it  sometimes  guided  us  wrongly  when  in  an 
abnormal  condition!  But,  after  all,  even  though  a  man 
whose  leg  has  been  amputated  may  suffer  with  pains  like 
those  he  might  feel  if  he  still  had  his  toes,  that  does  not 
lead  him  to  believe  that  he  has  actually  still  got  them ! 

If  objects  may  appear  different  in  size  and  shape  as  we 
change  our  place  in  respect  to  them,  though  they  in  truth 
do  not  so  change  at  all,  not  only  are  we  not  thereby  deceived, 
but,  as  we  have  seen,1  our  knowledge  of  their  objective 
qualities  may  be  thereby  perfected.  A  pea  held  between 
our  crossed  first  and  middle  fingers  will  not  feel  like  one 
pea,  but  like  two  peas.  But  there  is  no  real  deception  in 
this.  No  one  would  afBrm  that  the  mere  touch  of  a  surface 
can  impart  knowledge  as  to  the  bulk  and  solidity  of  the  ob- 
ject touched  ;  for  this,  we  must  also  have  some  experience  of 
resistance.  If,  then,  with  the  fore  and  middle  fingers  we 
simultaneously  touch  two  opposite  surfaces  and  find  we  can- 
not bring  our  fingers  together,  the  feeling  naturally  arises 
(from  long  experienced  associations  of  sensations)  that  an 
obstacle  in  the  form  of  a  solid  body  lies  between  them — an 
obstacle  situated  between  the  adjacent  sides  of  those  fingers. 
But  if  we  cross  our  fingers,  then  the  pea  touches  those  sides 
of  each  finger  which  do  not  ordinarily  touch  the  same  thing, 
but  two  different  things,  and  this  makes  the  single  pea 
naturally  feel  as  if  it  were  two  peas. 

1  See  ante,  p.  60. 


THE   OBJECTS  OF  SCIENCE  7 1 

As  everyone  knows,  various  ingenious  instruments  have 
been  invented  to  produce  optical  delusions,  but  that  in  no 
way  makes  the  declaration  of  our  perceptive  faculty  at  all 
less  trustworthy.  We  are  able,  indeed,  so  to  arrange  things 
as  to  invert  or  distort  impressions  ordinarily  made;  what 
wonder,  then,  that  our  sense-perceptions  sometimes  be- 
come inverted  or  distorted  likewise  ?  But  it  is  generally 
the  case  that  though  our  sense-perception  is  changed, 
our  intellectual  perception  remains  perfect  all  the  time, 
and  so  enables  us  to  be  the  better  amused  by  the  sense- 
deception  induced. 

But,  it  may  be  urged,  most  people  even  now,  and  every- 
one a  few  centuries  ago,  have  been  deceived  by  their  senses 
with  respect  to  the  motions  of  the  sun  and  the  earth,  yet 
the  fact  is,  their  senses  did  not  deceive  them.  They  only 
drew  too  hasty  an  inference  from  what  they  saw,  as  a  little 
reflection  will,  we  think,  make  obvious.  Our  sight  gives  us 
no  information  at  all  with  respect  to  motion,  save  indirectly, 
/.  e.,  as  shown  by  changes  of  relative  position  between  ob- 
jects. Thus,  when  we  are  moving,  we  may,  under  some 
circumstances,  be  quite  unconscious  of  it,  save  for  jolts, 
jars,  the  feeling  of  meeting  the  air,  and  other  incidents 
which  are  no  elements  of  motion,  but  merely  its  accidental 
accompaniments.  When  travellers  in  a  balloon  ascend  from 
the  earth,  they  are  said  to  have  no  feeling  whatever  of  their 
movement,  save  by  looking  down  on  an  apparently  sinking 
world  beneath  them.  The  feelings  our  senses  give  us,  oc- 
casion an  intellectual  apprehension  of  motion  and  of  moving 
things;  but  that  apprehension,  we  can  see  by  reflection,  may 
take  place  with  or  without  inference.  With  regard  to  the 
movement  of  the  sun,  there  really  is  this  relative  change  of 
position — a  fact  about  which  the  senses  give  us  accurate  in- 
formation. Our  perception  of  this  relative  change  of  place 
does  certainly  awaken  in  our  intellect  a  perception  of  motion, 


72  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

but  it  does  not,  for  it  cannot,  tell  us  where  the  motion  is, 
without  processes  of  observation  and  inference.  The  sup- 
posed perception  of  the  sun's  motion  is  an  instance  of  an 
inference,  not  noticed,  perhaps,  at  the  time,  but  clearly 
recognisable  by  reflection.  It  is  impossible  for  anyone  to 
really  see  the  sun  move.  If  we  fix  our  eyes  on  it  at  sunset 
we  shall,  indeed,  from  second  to  second,  see  that  it  has 
more  and  more  disappeared ;  but  we  cannot  see  it  move. 
As  to  the  movement  of  the  sun,  the  mass  of  men  never  think 
about  its  relation  to  that  of  the  earth.  The  first  observers 
inferred  that  it  moved,  and  that  the  earth  stood  still,  and 
their  inference  embedded  in  language,  has  so  affected  us, 
that  to  this  day  everyone  speaks  of  the  "  rising  and  set- 
ting sun,"  even  though  he  may  know  quite  well  that  it 
neither  sets  nor  rises,  but  that  the  revolving  earth  gradu- 
ally hides  it  from  view  and  afterwards  lets  it  be  seen 
once  more.  What  men's  senses  ever  did  and  do  now 
make  known,  are  "  changes  of  relative  position  between 
the  earth,  on  which  the  observer  stands,  and  the  sun,"  and 
just  such  changes  do  really  take  place.  Thus  none  of  the 
objections  yet  considered  allow  us  to  say  that  our  senses 
really  deceive  us. 

And,  indeed,  with  regard  to  the  secondary  qualities  of 
bodies,  more  might  yet  be  urged  in  defence  of  the  veracity 
of  our  faculties  respecting  them  than  we  have  yet  advanced. 
No  one  has  ever  shown,  or  can,  we  believe,  show,  that  it  is 
impossible  for  our  intellect  to  obtain,  through  our  sensations 
of  colour,  sound,  etc.,  the  truest  notions  it  is  possible  for 
us  to  have  concerning  the  objective  qualities  which  give  rise 
to  those  sensations.  The  objective  cause,  whatever  it  may 
be,  must  be  admitted  to  be  occult  in  each  case,  except  as  it 
may  be  made  more  or  less  known  to  us  by  the  sensations  it 
occasions.  Granting,  for  argument's  sake,  the  absolute 
truth  of  the  undulatory  theory  of  light,  the  objective  con- 


THE   OBJECTS   OF  SCIENCE  73 

dition  of  an  object  which  causes  it  to  select  certain  rays  for 
reflection  must  be  admitted  to  be  as  yet  quite  occult. 
Therefore,  it  cannot  be  denied  that  there  may  be  such  a 
conformity  between  objective  qualities  and  the  effects  they 
produce  on  us,  that  those  effects  may  be  the  best  means 
possible  for  giving  us  the  best  understanding  we  can  attain 
to  of  what  those  objective  qualities  really  are.  Though 
those  effects  may  be,  and  probably  are,  far  from  telling  us 
the  whole  truth,  though  the  objective  qualities  that  produce 
them  may  be  very  differeit  from  such  effects,  and  though 
much  ignorance  about  su';h  objective  qualities  (the  existence 
of  which  we  do  know)  m  iy  thus  have  to  be  added  to  our 
ignorance  about  various  other  qualities  which  probably  ex- 
ist unknown  to  us — nevertheless,  our  knowledge,  however 
fragmentary,  is  in  part  true,  and,  therefore,  our  faculties, 
though  inadequate  to  reveal  to  us  much  we  might  wish  to 
understand,  are  nevertheless  not  mendacious.  But  some 
persons,  strange  to  say,  have  affirmed  that  incomplete 
knowledge  is  error ;  and  that  what  we  know  only  in  part, 
we  therefore  know  wrongly. 

Yet  such  an  affirmation  is  surely  a  most  irrational  one. 
Is  the  statement,  "  The  angles  at  the  base  of  an  isosceles 
triangle  are  equal,"  false  or  erroneous,  because  it  does  not; 
also  express  the  facts  which  follow  if  its  sides  be  produced  ? 
Is  it  false  to  say,  "A  gibbon  has  extremely  long  arms,"  be- 
cause we  do  not  also  say,  "  No  ape  except  a  species  of  gib- 
bon has  a  chin  "  ? 

It  is,  of  course,  most  true  that  no  man  can  possess,  with 
respect  to  any  object  whatever,  a  knowledge  of  all  its 
relations  (real  and  possible)  with  the  rest  of  the  universe. 
But  the  impossibility  of  our  being  omniscient  does  not 
prevent  our  having  some  knowledge  which  is  perfectly 
accurate,  absolutely  true,  as  far  as  it  goes.  Our  know- 
ledge, for  example,  of  the  numerical  difference  between 


74  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

two  groups  of  marbles  (one  with  three,  the  other  with 
five)  is  a  perfectly  true  knowledge,  and  in  no  way  tainted 
with  error. 

The  same  example  may  serve  to  refute  another  and  very 
common  objection  to  the  veracity  of  our  perceptions.  Some 
persons,  while  professing  to  know  nothing  but  sensations 
and  sense-impresses,  vivid  and  faint,  yet  believe — as  a  sort 
of  faith — in  the  existence  of  an  independent  material  world, 
quite  unlike  our  perceptions,  and  yet  the  cause  of  them. 
The  men  of  this  school  do  really  believe  in  "  independent 
material  objects  "  and  "  actual  physical  states,"  as  realities 
independent  of  their  minds  and  of  everyone  else's.  But,  on 
their  system  of  knowledge,  they  can  (since  they  say  they 
can  know  nothing  but  states  of  consciousness)  only  get  this 
belief  of  theirs  by  an  act  of  blind  and  unreasoning  credulity. 
They  also  affirm  our  knowledge  to  be  necessarily  untrue, 
because  it  corresponds  neither  with  what  is  internal  and 
subjective,  nor  with  what  is  external  and  objective.  They 
regard  it  as  a  sort  of  tertium  quid  which  results  from  the 
combined  activity  and  interaction  of  both  subject  and  ob- 
ject, but  resembling  neither — just  as  water  resembles  neither 
the  oxygen  nor  the  hydrogen  from  the  combination  of  both 
.of  which  it  results.  But  experience  and  reflection  clearly 
show  us  that  our  intelligence  has  the  power  of  unconsciously 
subtracting  its  own  subjective  element  from  the  result.  Let 
us  concede  that  every  perception  is  produced  by  the  com- 
bination x-\-y  ;  x  being  the  Ego,  or  self,  and  y  the  object. 
Yet  the  mind  has  the  power  of  supplying  its  own  —  x,  and 
so  we  get  x-\-y  —  x,  or  y  pure  and  simple.  Unless  such 
were  the  case,  how  could  we  know  the  real  numerical  differ- 
ence between  three  marbles  and  two  marbles,  between  a 
cube  and  a  sphere  ?  Does  any  reasonable  person  doubt 
that,  in  these  matters  at  least,  we  attain  to  absolute  object- 
ive truth  ? 


THE   OBJECTS  OF  SCIENCE  75 

It  is  clear  that  the  mind  can  correct  any  such  supposed 
delusive  tendency  of  its  own,  or  the  above  facts  could  not 
be  known  to  us  as  perfectly  certain  and  accurate  objective 
truths.  Thus  the  mind  unquestionably  must  possess  the 
power  of  transmitting  to  us  a  knowledge  of  at  least  some 
facts  and  principles  as  they  really  and  objectively  exist. 
Why  should  we  distrust  its  other  dictates  ?  Grounding  all 
our  assertions  on  the  positive  declarations  of  our  conscious- 
ness, we  can  affirm  that  we  really  know  (though  more  or  less 
imperfectly)  things  in  themselves,  and  not  a  mere  amalgam 
made  up  of  a  mixture  of  the  results  of  objective  and  subject- 
ive influences — results  neither  resembling  ourselves  nor  the 
world  without  us  in  any  one  respect. 

As  to  the  contention  of  idealists  that  the  essence  of  all 
existence  "  is  "  being  perceived,"  we  may  freely  allow 
that  nothing  can  exist  in  absolutely  the  same  condition 
when  perceived  as  when  unperceived,  for  in  the  former  case 
it  is  "  a  thing  perceived,"  and  in  the  latter  case  "  a  thing 
unperceived,"  and  "  a  thing  unknown  "  cannot  be  identical 
with  "  a  thing  known."  But  this  contention  is  one  which 
is  utterly  trivial.  Of  course,  things  unknown  cannot  be 
known  while  they  exist  as  unknown  objects,  and  of  course, 
again,  a  thing  perceived  by  us  does  not  exist  in  a  state  of 
"  being  perceived  by  us  "  when  we  do  not  perceive  it.  But 
our  perceiving  it  or  not  perceiving  it  is  (as  we  have  more 
than  once  urged)  a  mere  accident  of  its  existence,  which  ex- 
istence continues  on  essentially  the  same,  whether  perceived 
or  not.  Who  has  perceived  the  mountains  on  the  other 
side  of  the  moon ;  but  are  they  the  less  real  because  no  one 
can  perceive  them  ?  Who  perceived  for  untold  ages  the  many 
palaeozoic  fossils  which  have  been  in  modern  times  disen- 
tombed ;  but  have  they  been  less  persistently  existent  on  that 
account  ?  Does  want  of  being  perceived  impair  the  reality  of 
the  thousands  of  fossils  which  as  yet  remain  undiscovered  ? 


76  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

Surely  here,  as  in  the  former  instances  we  noted,1  physical 
science  is  fatal  to  idealism. 

Before  finally  concluding  this  chapter  it  may  be  well  to 
consider  some  special  objections  made  by  one  of  our  most 
esteemed  idealists2  against  a  non-idealistic  conception  of 
the  universe  as  being  self-contradictory  and  replete  with 
illusion. 

After  the  usual  objections  founded  on  the  divergence  be- 
tween our  sensations  induced  by  the  secondary  qualities  of 
objects  and  the  objective  nature  of  the  latter,  he  endeavours 
to  raise  difficulties  as  to  our  perception  of  the  extended  on 
the  ground  that  the  mode  of  inherence  of  its  secondary 
qualities  and  the  relations  holding  between  them3  ("  how 
the  qualities  stand  to  the  relations  which  have  to  hold  be- 
tween them  "),  are,  on  any  non-idealistic  system,  inex- 
plicable. 

We  have  already  protested  4  against  the  question,  "  How- 
is  knowledge  possible  ?  "  as  a  necessarily  idle  one.  Our 
knowledge  of  the  "  how  anything  is  "  must  always  repose 
upon  a  previous  knowledge  of  the  fact  "  that  it  is."  To 
seek  to  know  the  "  how  "  and  "  why  "  of  every  "  that,"  is 
to  enter  upon  an  inquiry  which  it  is  plain  cannot  possibly 
have  any  end — a  necessary  regressus  ad  infinitum.  All  men, 
even  idealists  themselves,  have,  we  are  convinced,  con- 
sciously or  unconsciously,  an  intuition  of  the  extended. 
Nevertheless,  when  affirming  anything  thus  evidently  true, 
it  is  specially  needful  to  guard  against  the  appearance  of  de- 
claring any  other  things  to  be  evident  which  really  are  not 
evident.  Thus  many  persons  assume  that  "  the  extended  " 
must  possess  secondary  qualities,  and,  of  course,  our  uniform 
sensuous  experience  renders  it  impossible  for  us  to  imagine 

1  See  ante,  pp.  51-53. 

9  Dr.  F.  H.  Bradley  in  his  work  entitled  Appearance  and  Reality,  1893. 

3  Ibid.,  pp.  14,  15.  4  See  ante,  p.  56. 


THE   OBJECTS  OF  SCIENCE  77 

any  extended  object  devoid  of  such  qualities.  Yet  it  really 
is  not  evident  that  it  must  possess  such  qualities,  though, 
of  course,  its  possession  of  them  may  in  fact  be  necessary 
for  all  that. 

The  "  extended  "  must,  of  course,  have  some  definite 
quantity,  but  it  is  not  evident  that  "  corporeal  substance  " 
must  be  extended,  or,  so  to  speak,  be  quantitatively  ex- 
tended in  space.  Let  us  suppose  that  the  earth  and  the 
moon  were  both  simultaneously  deprived  of  their  extension 
while  remaining  individually  distinct,  the  one  from  the 
other;  they  would,  though  not  externally  extended,  have  a 
definite  state  of  some  kind,  though  we  cannot  imagine  it 
even  so  well  as  we  can  imagine  what  Newton  said  as  to  the 
possibility  of  reducing  the  earth,  without  loss  of  substance, 
to  the  size  of  one  cubic  inch. 

Although  merely  speculative,  it  is  well  to  recognise  that 
when  Kant  argued  that  the  noumenon  of  substance  did  not 
evidently  demand  the  phenomena n  of  extension,  he  was  not 
unreasonable  save  in  denying  our  intuition  of  extension  as 
a  fact.  We  have  no  intuition  of  the  essential  nature  of 
material  bodies — of  corporeal  substance  in  itself — such  as 
would  warrant  us  in  drawing  the  conclusion  that  it  necessa- 
rily postulates,  short  of  annihilation,  actual  extension.  But 
in  order  to  be  able  to  affirm  with  certainty  that  the  extended 
— the  external  world — exists,  it  is  by  no  means  necessary  to 
know  its  intimate  "  nature,"  and  the  absolute  exhaustive 
truth  about  all  or  any  of  its  qualities.  "  Qualities  "  and 
"  relations,"  as  such,  are,  of  course,  mere  abstractions, 
though  every  one  of  them  has  a  foundation  in  those  real 
things  of  which  they  are  truly  predicated. 

The  difficulties  raised  by  Dr.  Bradley  are  very  largely 
verbal  ones,  and  result  from  the  impossibility  of  our  imagin- 
ing what  is  beyond  our  sensuous  experience,  and  from  his 
proneness  to  make  use  of  exceedingly  sensuous  illustrations. 


78  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

Appearance,  he  tells  us,1  must  belong  and  yet  cannot  be- 
long, to  the  extended. 

But  it  is  not  evident  that  something  extended  may  not 
exist  in  our  vicinity  which  our  sensitive  faculties  may  be 
unable  to  perceive,  so  that  it  cannot  appear  to  them ;  and  it 
is  certain  that  multitudes  of  extended  bodies  exist  in  space 
(so  to  speak)  which  never  can  appear  to  any  human  being. 
So  much  for  the  first  alternative.  As  to  the  second,  "  ap- 
pearance "  can  and  does  belong  to  the  extended,  in  so  far 
as  it  has  objective  qualities  and  powers  which  our  faculties 
are  able  to  apprehend.  The  "  appearance  "  is  partly  object- 
ive and  partly  subjective,  or  rather  it  is  in  one  sense  the 
former  and  in  another  sense  the  latter,  just  as  we  have  seen 
that  colour  and  sound  are  both  objective  and  subjective. 

That  the  extended  comes  to  us  "  only  by  relation  to  an 
organ,"  and  is  "  perceived  through  an  affection  of  our  body 
and  never  without,"  is  another  objection.  But  why  should 
we  not  apprehend  extension  through  our  organs,  and  what 
doubt  does  such  a  means  of  apprehending  it  cast  on  the 
truth  of  our  apprehension  ?  Why  also  should  we  doubt 
the  truth  of  the  extension  of  our  own  body  because  we  can 
only  perceive  it  by  the  action  of  one  part  of  it  upon  another  ? 

Dr.  Bradley  says8:  "  That  we  have  no  miraculous  intui- 
tion of  our  own  body  as  spatial  reality  is  perfectly  certain." 
The  word  "  miraculous  "  should  not  have  been  used  by  him 
in  this  context,  as  it  tends  to  excite  an  initial  prejudice 
against  the  view  he  opposes.  Nobody  pretends  that  we 
have  such  an  intuition,  but  that  our  possession  of  an  evident 
natural  intuition  is  certain  we  do  not  hesitate  to  affirm. 
Of  course  we  cannot  think  till  after  we  have  begun  to  feel, 
and  our  intuition  of  the  body's  extension  is  not  gained  with- 
out experience  and  without  multitudinous  antecedent  move- 
ments between  its  various  parts.  But  that  intuition  once 

1  Bradley,  loc.  cit.,  p.  15.  2 Ibid,,  p.  15. 


THE   OBJECTS  OF  SCIENCE  79 

gained  is  not  on  that  account  a  bit  less  clear  and  distinct  at 
a  very  early  date. 

There  is  no  difficulty  in  the  fact  that  nothing  extended 
can  be  perceived  except  in  relation  to  thought  which  is 
unextended.  Who  would  expect  that  two  extended  but 
thoughtless  things  could  perceive  each  other  ?  What  doubt 
is  cast  upon  our  intellectual  intuitions  from  the  fact  that 
they  cannot  do  so  ? 

That  extended  objects  may  be  real  in  themselves,  with 
various  relations  to  our  percipience,  is  opposed  by  Dr.  Brad- 
ley on  the  ground  that,  "  if  a  thing  is  known  to  have  a 
quality  only  under  a  certain  condition,  there  is  no  process 
of  reasoning  from  this  which  will  justify  the  conclusion  that 
the  thing,  if  unconditioned,  is  still  the  same." 

But  here  the  use  of  the  term  "  unconditioned  "  seems 
quite  unwarrantable.  Because  the  conditions  which  accom- 
pany perception  may  be  absent,  it  by  no  means  follows  that 
all  conditions  are  absent.  Indeed,  it  is  clear  and  manifest 
that  no  extended  object  can  exist  devoid  of  all  relations  to 
the  rest  of  the  universe.  The  antithesis,  therefore,  is  be- 
tween the  extended  under  "  some  "  conditions,  and  the  ex- 
tended under  "  other  "  conditions,  and,  thus  corrected,  the 
assertion  is  plainly  erroneous. 

We  have  only  known  the  sun  in  so  far  as  it  is  above  the 
horizon.  But  that  does  not  prevent  our  being  certain  that 
we  could,  were  we  supplied  with  certain  helps,  also  see  it 
on  the  opposite  side  of  the  heavens. 

That  objection  to  the  reality  of  qualities  only  known  to 
us  through  one  sense — one  relation — which  is  grounded  on 
the  assertion  that  to  affirm  the  reality  of  such  qualities  apart 
from  that  relation  is  "  more  than  unwarranted  " — is  itself 
"  more  than  unwarranted." 

For  we  always  have  more  than  one  source  of  information 
about  the  qualities  of  things.  We  have  (i)  our  sensitive 


8O  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

faculty,  which  informs  us  of  the  subjective  results  of  such 
qualities,  and  we  have  (2)  the  intellect,  which  assures  us  that 
our  sensation  has,  under  normal  conditions,  a  real  objective 
cause. 

That  extension  cannot  be  presented  in  thought,  or  thought 
of  except  as  possessing  secondary  qualities,  we  altogether 
deny,  though,  as  we  have  already  affirmed,  it  cannot  be  im- 
agined without  them. 

The  former  assertion  is  manifestly  false.  For  though  we 
cannot  think  of  our  extended  body  except  by  the  aid  of 
sensuous  images,  into  which  imaginations  of  secondary  qual- 
ities enter,  nevertheless,  thus  aided,  we  can  think  of  such 
things  as  devoid  of  secondary  qualities.  If  we  could  not  do 
so  we  should  not  be  able  even  to  discuss  the  question 
whether  the  extended  can  or  cannot  exist  without  such 
secondary  qualities,  nor  could  we  have  declared,  as  we  have 
done,  that  it  is  not  evident  to  us  either  that  they  can  or  that 
they  cannot  do  so,  and  that  an  open  mind  is  to  be  main- 
tained there  anent. 

Dr.  Bradley  could  not  discuss  the  question  either,  unless 
he  had  the  "  miraculous  "  faculty  of  writing  about  a  ques- 
tion concerning  which  he  is  utterly  unable  to  think. 

'  Extension,"  like  quality  (whether  primary  or  second- 
ary), is,  of  course,  an  abstraction,  though  with  a  very  solid 
foundation  in  extended  things. 

The  reality  of  extension,  once  more,  is  for  us  a  direct  per- 
ception. It  is  no  inference,  but  an  intellectual  intuition 
acquired  through  the  ministry  of  sense.  It  is,  of  course, 
most  true  that  we  can  feel  nothing  of  an  object  save  the 
subjective  effects  of  its  objective  qualities:  that  in  a  lump 
of  sugar  we  have  no  sensitive  perception  of  anything  but  its 
whiteness,  hardness,  roughness,  sweetness,  etc.,  together 
with  its  shape  and  its  extension ;  but  we  none  the  less  know 
that  there  is  more.  We  have,  as  we  before  said,  no  intuition 


THE   OBJECTS   OF  SCIENCE  8 1 

of  the  corporeal  substance  in  itself,  but  we  have  an  evident 
intuition  of  corporeal  substance  in  conjunction  with  the 
qualities  our  senses  make  known  to  us.  This  is  the  material 
substance  which  Bishop  Berkeley  said  he  alone  denied  the 
existence  of,  and  the  absence  of  which,  he  declared,  would 
be  missed  by  none.  But  its  absence  would,  indeed,  be 
missed  by  all ;  for  the  plain  man  always  thinks  of  a  material 
object  as  something  real  in  itself  over  and  above  its  qualities. 
Such  reality  is  apprehended  by  every  healthy  and  normal 
intellect.  It  is  easy  to  laugh  at  Dr.  Johnson's  refutation 
of  idealism  by  kicking  a  stone.  But  that  simple  act  was  a 
refutation  of  it,  for  it  was  an  energetic  manifestation  of 
Johnson's  perception  that  he  had  an  intuition  of  real,  ex- 
tended, independent  objects.  It  was  a  mute  expression  of 
a  profound  philosophic  truth — a  truth  which  underlies  all 
physical  science — the  truth,  namely,  that  we  have  an  intui- 
tion of  the  extended. 

After  the  most  patient  consideration  it  has  been  in  our 
power  to  bestow  on  Dr.  Bradley's  contention,  we  remain 
convinced  that  he  has  succeeded  neither  in  showing  that 
primary  and  secondary  qualities  stand  on  a  similar  footing 
in  the  mind,  nor  that  the  latter  are  appearances  only,  and 
are  not  known  to  us  as  revealing  corresponding  objective 
realities.  But  if  neither  primary  nor  secondary  qualities  are 
mere  appearances,  a  fundamental  mistake  underlies  his  whole 
contention,  that  the  world  as  perceived  and  understood  by 
the  mass  of  mankind  is  mere  delusion.  If,  then,  we  are  to 
rise  out  of  utter  scepticism — the  irrational  nature  of  which 
will  be  later  pointed  out — we  are  justified  in  shaking  off  the 
prejudices  of  idealism. 

These  prejudices  are  ultimately  due  to  a  non-recognition 
of  the  fundamental  difference  which  exists  between  feelings 
and  ideas,  between  the  impressions  of  our  sensitive  faculty 
and  the  dictates  of  the  pure  intellect.  They  are  therefore 


82  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

due  to  an  utterly  inadequate  apprehension  of  the  power  and 
dignity  of  human  reason. 

But  if  the  system  which  underlies  idealism  were  true,  if 
we  had  no  means  of  perception  save  sensations  and  sense- 
impresses  (vivid  and  faint  feelings),  then  we  could  have  no 
warrant  for  a  belief  in  an  external  world,  or  for  a  conviction 
that  other  minds  existed  in  addition  to  our  own.  If  we 
could  know  nothing  but  complex  associations  of  our  own 
feelings,  what  right  could  we  possibly  have  to  affirm  that 
anything  else  existed  ?  If  we  could  in  no  way  get  beyond 
our  own  being,  the  only  absolute  certainty  for  us  must 
be  our  own  feelings,  and  so  we  become  upholders  of  Solip- 
sism. It  would  be  all  very  well  to  talk  of  a  divine  mind  which 
produced  those  feelings  in  our  mind;  or  of  a  material  uni- 
verse possessing  many  energies,  whereof  our  own  feeling  was 
one ;  or  of  an  impersonal  absolute  which  became  conscious 
in  our  consciousness;  or  of  a  monistic  universe,  the  absolute 
unity  of  which  has  two  sides — one  physical,  the  other 
psychical — like  the  one  substance  of  Spinoza  with  its  two 
attributes,  thought  and  extension.  All  these  for  the  con- 
sistent idealist  would  be  so  many  pleasant  or  unpleasant 
dreams,  with  no  more  body  or  coherence  in  any  one  of  them 
than  in  the  mist  of  the  morning.  For 'such  an  idealist  there 
is  but  one  firm  reality — his  own  sentient  being,  and  of  all 
else  he  is  evidently  the  creator  (since  everything  he  knows 
is  a  plexus  of  feelings  which  his  being  has  caused  to  exist), 
though  as  to  how  he  created  the  universe  he  need  neither 
know  nor  care  to  inquire.  It  is  enough  for  him  that  he  has, 
in  fact,  produced  it,  and  that  its  being  depends  absolutely 
on  his  own.  The  divine  mind,  the  material  world,  the  ab- 
solute, the  uncogitable  unity  of  the  monists,  and  the  sub- 
stance of  Spinoza,  will  by  him  be  courteously  bowed  out  or 
unceremoniously  kicked  out,  according  to  his  idealistic 
temperament,  and  he  can  logically  remain,  like  the  Indian 


THE   OBJECTS   OF  SCIENCE  83 

sage  in  peaceful  contemplation  of  the  plexus  of  feelings  he 
calls  his  own  navel,  as  a  symbol  of  that  first  cause  and  im- 
manent upholder,  from  which  all  things  have  proceeded, 
and  in  which  all  things  have  their  only  being. 

This  logical  development  of  idealism  finds  small  favour 
with  existing  idealists.  Solipsism  is  looked  at  askance  with 
evident  dread  by  some,  and  vain  attempts  at  its  refutation 
have  been  made  by  others.  But  it  remains  none  the  less 
invincible  on  its  rock  of  "nothing-known-but-feelings."  It 
was,  as  our  readers  know,  first  developed  and  upheld  by 
Fichte,  though  he  ultimately  abandoned  it;  and  thus  the 
logical  outcome  of  the  system  of  idealism  has  been  practi- 
cally condemned  by  its  own  disciples.  To  the  other  ideal- 
istic extreme,  that  by  Hume,  we  will  sacrifice  no  space,  for, 
in  spite  of  its  author's  acuteness  and  great  ability,  it  does 
not  really  admit  of  logical  statement,  so  utterly  incoherent 
is  it,  and  so  confident  are  we  that  its  ingenious  author  had 
no  belief  in  it  himself,  but  was  laughing  in  his  sleeve  at  his 
inept  admirers  and  disciples. 

In  opposition  to  the  notion  of  solipsism — that  everything 
we  can  perceive  or  imagine  is  but  a  mode  of  our  own  per- 
sonality— may  be  opposed  the  contradictory  form  of  ideal- 
ism, before  referred  to  by  us,1  which  would  assert  that  our 
personality  is  but  a  mode  of  the  absolute  or  of  some  divine 
existence.  But,  as  Mr.  Arthur  Balfour  has  well  remarked, 
"  the  very  notion  of  personality  excludes  the  idea  of  any 
one  person  being  a  '  mq^e  '  of  any  other." 

A  system  which  would  strongly,  and  with  reason,  deny 
that  it  was  idealist,  may  conveniently,  with  apologies  to  its 
advocates,  be  here  briefly  referred  to. 

This  at  present  popular  system  is  Monism,  which  solves 
the  conflict  between  the  advocates  of  mind  and  the  advo- 
cates of  matter  (as  alone  the  source  of  all  whereof  we  can 

1  See  ante,  p.  40. 


84  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

have  any  knowledge)  by  denying  them  both  and  affirming 
that  nothing  exists  but  a  substance  utterly  unknowable  save 
as  regards  two  of  its  aspects,  one  psychical,  the  other 
material.  According  to  it,  thought  is  nervous  tissue  in  mo- 
tion just  so  far  as  nervous  tissue  in  motion  is  thought,  both 
being  eternally  divergent  and  antithetical  modes  of  a  sub- 
stance which  is  neither  thought  nor  matter. 

This  system  affords  a  seemingly  easy  way  of  explaining 
the  ever-recurring  puzzle  about  "  matter"  and  "  mind." 
How  can  mind  (unextended  and  immaterial)  ever  possibly 
act  or  be  acted  on  by  such  a  thing  (extended  and  material) 
as  matter  ?  This  question  has  tortured  many  choice  minds 
for  more  than  two  centuries,  because  men  sought  to  obtain 
an  answer  to  it  in  impossible  terms,  namely,  in  terms  of  the 
imagination.  But  it  is  utterly  impossible  for  us  to  imagine 
the  action  of  mind  on  matter  or  of  matter  on  mind,  simply 
because  the  mind  never  has  been  or  can  be  a  matter  of 
sensuous  experience,  and  we  can  never  imagine  anything  of 
which  we  have  not  had  such  experience. 

But  our  inability  to  imagine  such  action  does  not  consti- 
tute an  argument  of  the  slightest  value  against  the  reality 
of  such  action  (in  ways  which  are  beyond  our  power  of  im- 
agination), if  our  intellect  shows  us  good  reason  for  thinking 
that  such  action  does,  in  fact,  take  place,  and  there  is  no 
real  evidence  that  such  reciprocal  action  is  impossible. 

But  because  it  is  felt  difficult  to  imagine  the  action  of 
mind  on  matter  or  of  matter  on  mind,  it  is  a  curious  method 
of  obtaining  relief  to  assume  the  unique  existence  of  some- 
thing more  unimaginable  (because  more  unknowable)  than 
either,  and  take  that  as  a  satisfactory  explanation ! 

Matter  we  know  and  mind  we  know,  but  what  is  this  x 
underlying  both,  the  only  properties  of  which  are  the  two 
manifestations  of  existence  (mental  and  physical)  deemed 
the  very  metaphysical  antipodes  of  being  ? 


THE   OBJECTS  OF  SCIENCE  85 

If  it  is  difficult  to  understand  matter  and  mind  as  recipro- 
cally active,  how  can  the  emergence  of  entities  so  antitheti- 
cal from  one  absolutely  unique  and  common  source  be  better 
understood  ? 

We  have  an  intuition  of  the  extended — the  physical.  Is 
it  possible  that  we  should  have  a  less  perfect  intuition  of 
our  own  consciousness  ?  Surely  our  reason  tells  us  that  we 
know  them  both  as  evident  existences  and  as  existences  pro- 
foundly different.  This  is  made  manifest  by  the  diversity 
of  their  activities,  and  this  diversity  can  be  perceived  in  our 
own  intimate,  unique,  concrete  being. 

Suppose  we  are  energetically  opposing  the  entrance  of 
someone  into  the  room  we  are  in,  by  leaning  the  whole 
weight  of  our  body  against  the  door  of  it.  We  have  a  dis- 
tinct intuition  both  of  our  volitional  effort  and  intention  and 
also  of  our  body  acting  by  its  mere  weight  as  a  corpse  or  a 
block  of  wood  might  do. 

To  disregard  such  positive  intuition  of  two  evident  entities 
thus  different  in  action,  in  favour  of  an  unthinkable  entity, 
with  no  apparent  power  of  exercising  activity  in  either  mode, 
is,  in  our  humble  judgment,  little  less  than  a  deliberate 
abandonment  of  philosophy  gained  by  experience  in  favour 
of  a  mere  intellectually  groundless  fancy. 

We  hope  that  enough  has  here  been  said  to  justify  the 
dictates  of  the  human  intellect  (as  recognised  by  all  but 
idealists  and  monists)  in  its  declaration  that  we  have  the 
power  of  cognising  an  external,  independent  world  of  things 
in  themselves,  real  objects  possessing  real  qualities,  apart 
from  any  perception  of  them  by  any  imaginable  mind.  We 
have  maintained,  and  do  maintain,  that  the  existence  of 
such  a  world  is  (in  our  judgment)  an  absolutely  certain  and 
self-evident  fact,  of  which  the  intellect,  through  the  ministra- 
tion of  the  senses,  acquires  a  direct  intuition.  Yet  we  will 
proffer  one  more  argument  for  the  consideration  of  those 


86  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

who  may  still  hesitate  as  to  the  final  rejection  of  ideal- 
ism. This  argument  springs  from  a  recognition  of  the  fact 
that  the  contentions  and  objections  put  forward  by  idealists 
remain  as  plausible  as  ever,  even  upon  the  hypothesis  that 
an  external  world  exists.  Let  us  assume,  for  argument's 
sake,  that  a  real,  external,  extended  world  of  "  things  in 
themselves  "  exists  on  all  sides  of  us,  we  remaining  the 
beings  we  are.  Could  we  possibly  know  of  the  existence  of 
such  a  world  except  by  some  influence  it  should  exercise 
upon  our  organs  of  sense  ?  Could  we  get  at  it  in  any  way 
except  by  means  of  our  faculties  conjoined  with  its  influ- 
ences ?  It  would,  therefore,  always  be  possible  for  men  of 
a  certain  turn  of  mind  to  declare  they  had  no  ground  to  ac- 
cept the  existence  of  anything  save  the  "  influences  "  and 
the  "  faculties  "  themselves,  and  to  deny  the  existence  of 
anything  producing  the  former  or  anything  possessing  the 
latter.  Nay,  let  us  suppose  ourselves  creatures  possessing 
a  thousand  different  kinds  of  sense-organs,  revealing  to  us  a 
mass  of  properties  possessed  by  objects  now  quite  unimagin- 
able by  us ;  however  great  the  number  of  orders  of  sensitivity 
or  of  properties  possessed  by  the  external  objects,  the  posi- 
tion must  ever  remain  the  same.  The  external  world  could 
never,  under  any  circumstance,  be  known  save  through  some 
influence  exercised  by  it  on  organs  capable  of  in  some  way 
responding  thereto,  and  thus  nothing  could  make  evident  an 
external  world  (by  our  hypothesis  supposed  to  exist  inde- 
pendently) to  men  bent  upon  regarding  the  mere  means  of 
cognition  as  the  object  of  cognition  itself. 

The  systems  which  different  idealists  have  put  forward 
are  just  those,  and  nothing  more,  which  men,  determined  to 
regard  mere  signs  as  everything,  and  utterly  to  disregard 
their  signification  (a  signification  evident  to  the  good  sense  of 
all  who  are  not  blinded  by  an  extraordinary  intellectual  per- 
versity), are  forced  to  construct. 


THE   OBJECTS  OF  SCIENCE  8/ 

To  those  who  have  so  far  followed  us,  then,  it  will  be 
clear  that  the  objects  of  science  are  in  part  mental  and  in  part 
material. 

Its  objects  are,  in  part,  thoughts  and  all  that  concerns  our 
mental  nature,  but  they  also,  in  part,  consist  of  material 
things,  possessing  various  powers  'and  energies  ;  and  all 
these  things  (a  knowledge  of  which  the  human  mind  can 
attain  to),  as  well  as  matters  mental,  are  true  and  proper 
objects  of  science. 

But  the  human  mind  has  never  been  satisfied  with  a  mere 
knowledge  of  facts.  Having  ascertained  the  fact  that  any 
individual  thing  is  (i.  e.,  exists),  its  next  questions  are,  what 
is  it  and  why  is  it  ?  What  is  its  essential  nature  ?  In  what 
relation  does  that  nature  stand  to  the  natures  of  other  exist- 
ences ?  What  are  we  to  think  of  the  whole  whereof  it  is  a 
part,  that  is,  the  universe  ?  What  is  the  cause  of  the  in- 
dividual thing  investigated  ?  Has  it  a  purpose,  or  final 
cause,  as  well  as  an  efficient  cause  ?  Finally,  can  anything, 
and,  if  so,  what,  be  said  as  to  the  nature  and  causation  of 
the  universe  itself  ? 

Beyond  the  knowledge  we  may  be  able  to  acquire  about 
our  own  minds,  and  beyond  all  we  can  ascertain  about  the 
material  universe,  man  has,  by  a  natural,  spontaneous  im- 
pulse, been  ever  driven  to  pass  beyond  all  that  is  physical 
and  seek  for  metaphysical  truth.  Physics  never  have,  and 
probably  never  will  content  him.  He  will  ever  crave  to  add 
thereto  the  science  of  metaphysics.  That  such  a  science 
does  or  can  exist  many  men  devoted  to  this  or  that  special 
branch  of  physics  energetically  deny. 

It  is  neither  our  business  nor  our  purpose  here  to  consider 
whether  this  denial  is,  or  is  not,  to  be  justified.  All  we 
have  to  do  is  to  recognise  the  fact  that  very  many  of  the 
highest  minds  the  world  has  ever  known  have  been  devoted 
to  metaphysics,  and  also  the  further  fact,  that  if  such  know- 


88  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

ledge  can  be  acquired,  since  all  knowledge  is  science  of  some 
kind,  such  metaphysical  science  must  be  the  highest  of 
sciences,  and  may  be  called  the  science  of  science.  The 
objects  of  science,  then,  described  in  the  most  general 
terms,  may  be  said  to  be  threefold :  mental,  physical,  and 
metaphysical. 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE  METHODS  OF  SCIENCE 

THE  objects  about  which  science  concerns  itself  are,  as 
we  saw  in  the  last  chapter,  threefold :  they  are,  in  the 
first  place,  the  material  bodies,  inanimate  and  animate,  which 
surround  us,  together  with  all  those  of  their  relations,  quali- 
ties, and  energies,  which  our  senses  and  our  reason  combine 
to  inform  us  about.  In  the  second  place,  they  are  the 
various  mental  facts  and  processes  which  are  revealed  to  us 
by  consciousness  and  introspection.  In  the  third  place, 
they  are  problems  concerning  the  essences  and  causes  of 
whatever  can  be  to  us  an  object  of  knowledge,  including  the 
universe  itself,  in  all  its  parts  and  considered  as  one  whole. 
The  method  by  which  science  proceeds  with  its  investiga- 
tions of  the  objects  of  its  study  is  essentially  the  same  in  all 
cases,  though  variously  modified  according  to  the  kind  of 
matter  about  which  it  is  for  the  time  occupied. 

But  it  is  in  no  way  the  object  of  this  work  to  describe 
the  special  methods  whereby  the  various  sciences  have  been 
brought  to  their  present  state  of  cultivation,  nor  the  several 
modes  in  which  each  of  them  is  now  being  pursued.  Our 
only  purpose  is  to  point  out,  in  the  most  general  terms, 
certain  characteristics,  certain  necessary  conditions,  which 
are  common  to  the  study  of  all,  or  of  a  great  many  of  them. 

Physical  science — the  science  occupied  about  the  first  of 
the  three  categories  of  objects  distinguished  at  the  beginning 

89 


90  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

of  this  chapter — has  been  said  to  consist  of  careful  meas- 
urements ;  and  there  is  much  truth  in  the  saying,  if  a 
sufficiently  wide  meaning  be  assigned  to  the  term  "  measure- 
ment." For  science  has  to  consider,  as  everyone  knows, 
not  only  spatial  dimensions — or  the  extent  and  directions  in 
which  any  body  is  extended,  or,  in  popular  phraseology, 
"  occupies  space  " — but  also  differences  of  quality,  differ- 
ences of  energy,  and  of  qualities  as  well  as  quantities  of 
energy,  and  differences  in  respect  to  all  those  qualities 
which  the  different  senses  we  possess  enable  us,  though  in 
radically  diverse  ways,  to  be  subjectively  affected  by,  and, 
through  the  intervention  of  the  intellect,  to  perceive  the 
objective  existence  of. 

But  for  the  apprehension  of  all  these  matters,  measurement 
is  an  indispensable  and  also  an  efficient  aid.  Thus,  inquiries 
as  to  matters  seemingly  so  purely  qualitative  as  different 
degrees  of  warmth,  are  answered  by  thermometric  measure- 
ments ;  differences  of  velocity  are  estimated  by  the  aid  of 
the  chronometer,  and  differences  in  the  action  of  gravity, 
under  various  conditions,  by  the  measurement  of  weight. 
Our  own  past  history  and  the  history  of  mankind  are  to  be 
understood  only  by  measurements  of  time.  Moreover,  to 
know  anything,  as  we  said  before,1  is  to  know  that  it  is  dis- 
tinct from  something  else,  which  is  to  know  numerical  differ- 
ence, which  is  again  counting,  and  that,  to  a  certain  degree, 
is  measurement. 

But,  though  the  inquiries  of  physical  science  may  be  gen- 
erally described  as  various  kinds  of  measurements,  such  a 
phrase  is  obviously  inapplicable  to  the  investigations  of 
mental  science.  It  is  true  that  our  own  existence  does  not 
become  known  to  us  save  through  successive  changes  in 
consciousness  (successive  "  states  of  consciousness  "),  that 
is,  through  "  relations  "  which  exist  between  them,  and  all 

1  See  ante,  p.  18. 


THE  METHODS  OF  SCIENCE  91 

mental  facts  become  known  through  relations  in  which  they 
stand  to  other  such  facts  and  to  our  consciousness.  But 
these  are  not,  in  any  true  sense,  "  measurements."  On  the 
other  hand,  all  the  problems  solved  by  careful  measurements 
in  physical  science  are  in  every  case  ascertained  and  solved 
by  the  attainment  of  a  correct  appreciation  of  relations 
existing  between  different  objects  and  activities.  And,  in- 
deed, metaphysics  may  also  be  said  to  be  occupied  about 
metaphysical  relations.  Thus  all  science  is  one  vast  process 
of  ascertaining,  as  correctly  as  possible,  relations  (e.  g.,  co- 
existence, succession,  and  causation)  of  very  different  orders 
of  things. 

But  owing  to  our  organisation,  every  such  inquiry  must 
be  carried  on,  and  every  conclusion  arrived  at,  through 
either  our  sense-perceptions  *  or  by  the  aid  of  sensuous  im- 
aginations, however  supersensuous  the  essential  nature  of 
the  object  of  our  inquiry  may  be. 

The  imaginations  we  make  use  of  need  not,  of  course,  be 
mental  pictures  of  concrete,  extended  things ;  they  may  be 
the  merest  symbols,  and  such  symbols  are  not  only  of  the 
greatest  utility,  but  are  absolutely  necessary  for  the  very 
simplest  kinds  of  science. 

Spoken  and  written  words  are  such  audible  and  visible 
symbols,  and  so  are  numerals  and  all  algebraic  signs.  By 
means  of  symbols  we  can  work  out  the  most  complicated 
results  without  any  need  of  thinking,  meanwhile,  what  it  is 
such  symbols  represent.  But  in  the  end,  to  arrive  at  any 
practical  or  complete  result,  the  symbols  must  be  retrans- 
lated into  the  things  they  symbolised,  and  thus  the  corre- 
spondence of  processes  gone  through  (simple  or  complex) 
may  be  tested  by  our  direct  or  our  indirect  sense-perceptions. 
Thus,  in  matters  so  elementary  as  the  simple  addition  of 
numerals,  the  result  may  be  tested  by  taking  parcels  of 

1  See  ante,  p.  9. 


Q2  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

things,  e.g.,  marbles,  each  corresponding  in  number  with 
one  of  the  (symbols)  numbers  to  be  added  together,  and, 
having  mixed  the  whole,  then  counting  them,  and  so  seeing 
that  the  senses  of  sight  and  touch  confirm  the  previous  re- 
sult of  the  addition  of  the  numerical  symbols.  It  is  the 
same  as  regards  the  process  of  subtraction ;  its  correspond- 
ence with  the  real  relations  which  exist  between  the  sub- 
stantial things  may  be  similarly  tested. 

The  symbolism  of  science  may  be  very  well  exemplified  by 
the  simplest  facts  of  algebra,  which,  as  our  readers  know,  is 
a  branch  of  science  replete  with  the  most  beautiful,  complex, 
ingenious,  and  far-reaching  processes,  whereby  alone  many 
calculations  are  made  possible,  or  the  labours  of  investigation 
lessened,  while  the  results  arrived  at  have  complete  accuracy. 
This  is  the  case  even  when  we  find  need  to  employ  symbols 
which  express  not  only  unreal,  but  even  impossible,  quanti- 
ties, by  means  of  which  we  may  arrive  at  otherwise  unattain- 
able truths  concerning  real  or  possible  existences.  Such  is  the 
case,  because  they  express  abstract  truths  which  have  real 
applications,  or  would  have  them  could  the  impossible  con- 
ditions, sometimes  supposed,  really  exist.  Thus  even  the 
absurd  and  impossible  quantities  expressed  by  the  symbol 
V—  x  has  its  relations  with  reality.  It  is,  of  course,  really 
impossible  in  itself,  since  there  is  no  quantity  which,  being 
multiplied  by  itself,  gives  a  negative  product.  Yet  it  has 
its  relation  with  reality,  inasmuch  as  it  can  be  used  as  if  it 
were  a  real  quantity,  and  all  the  laws  and  relations  relating 
to  real  quantities  can  be  applied  to  it. 

The  truths  and  processes  of  algebra  may  be  tested  by  our 
direct  sense-experience  (as  may  those  of  arithmetic)  by 
making  use  of  definite  numbers  as  representatives  of  alge- 
braic symbols,  and  so  translating  algebra  into  arithmetic  in 
order  to  be  practically  tested.  The  truths  of  geometry  may 
be  tested  by  being  made  evident  to  the  eye  and  by  reasoning. 


THE  METHODS  OF  SCIENCE  93 

Making  free  use  of  the  indispensable  aid  of  symbols, 
science  proceeds  to  investigate  the  objects  of  its  study  (i) 
by  observation,  (2)  by  reasoning,  (3)  by  putting  forward 
hypotheses,  and  (4)  by  testing  the  hypotheses  put  forward. 

Scientific  observation  consists  in  carefully  and  attentively 
bringing  to  bear  the  senses  appropriate  to  each  fact  to  be  : 
investigated,  making  use  of  all  the  artificial  means  and  ap- 
pliances available  for  the  purpose,  with  a  mind  well  informed 
as  to  what  has  been  done  in  the  same  field  before,  the  in- 
tellect being  also  aroused  for  the  detection  of  likenesses 
and  differences  between  the  objects  or  actions  studied, 
and  other  allied  objects  or  actions,  and  in  a  state  of  expect- 
ancy as  to  the  possibilities  or  probabilities  of  results  to  be 
anticipated. 

Where  it  is  possible,  such  observations  have  to  be  supple- 
mented by  others  in  which  circumstances  and  conditions 
have  been  specially  arranged  to  facilitate  discovery.  In 
other  words,  simple  observations  have  to  be  supplemented 
by  experiments,  and  these  must  evidently  be  varied  accord- 
ing to  the  nature  of  the  matter  under  investigation. 

In  many  sciences  it  is  evident  that  no  true  experiments 
are  possible,  but  only  different  degrees  of  ingenuity  in  de- 
vising modes  of  accurate  observation.  Such  must  be,  of 
course,  the  case  with  the  study  of  astronomy,  history,  palae- 
ontology, etc. 

Facts  having  been  sufficiently  ascertained,  the  truths  so 
elicited  may  be  further  developed  by  reasoning  according  to 
the  laws  of  logic.  Thus  it  is  we  gain  a  distinct  and  certain 
perception  of  truths  which  were  before  but  imperfectly, 
only  implicitly,  apprehended,  through  the  deductive  reason- 
ing of  the  syllogism.  By  induction,  as  we  all  know,  we  can 
form  judgments  more  or  less  probable,  and  sometimes  even 
certain.  Thus,  for  example,  having  examined  many  kinds 
of  pouched  animals,  and  found  that  they  all  possess  both  a 


94  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

peculiar  conformation  of  jaw  and  also  marsupial  bones,  we 
judge  that  if  a  new  species  be  discovered  with  one  of  these 
characters  it  will  also  possess  the  other. 

Such  a  judgment  can  never  be  a  certain,  but  only  an  em- 
pirical,1 judgment,  and  it  is  no  wonder  that  exceptions  to 
the  above-mentioned  rule  of  co-existence  have  been  found. 
But  certainty  may  be  attained  in  some  cases.  Thus,  by  the 
study  of  different  kinds  of  rocks  we  easily  perceive  that  they 
have  been  deposited  at  different  dates,  and  that  the  animals 
which  'have  left  their  remains  fossilised  within  them  were 
inhabitants  of  the  earth  at  different  periods. 

In  endeavouring  to  reason  out  the  cause  (or  causes)  of  any 
event  or  fact,  we  seek  it  amongst  the  invariable  antecedents 
or  concomitants  of  that  event  or  fact  by  five  different 
methods. 

There  is  first  the  "  method  of  agreement,"  which  endeav- 
ours to  discover  whether,  in  many  cases  of  the  occurrence 
of  the  fact  we  seek  to  explain,  one  circumstance  is  present 
in  every  case,  and  is  the  only  one  so  invariably  present. 

Secondly,  there  is  the  "  method  of  difference,"  by  which 
the  endeavour  is  made  to  find  two  instances  alike  in  all  their 
circumstances  save  one,  in  addition  to  the  difference  that  in 
one  instance  the  event,  or  fact,  the  cause  of  which  is  sought 
is  present,  while  in  the  other  it  is  absent.  When  two  such 
instances  are  found,  then  the  single  circumstance  found  to 
co-exist  with  the  event  or  fact  must  at  least  be  closely 
related  to  its  cause. 

Thirdly,  we  have  the  "  joint  method  of  agreement  and 
difference,"  which  may  be  thus  stated: 

If  in  two  instances  in  which y  occurs  JIT  is  also  present,  while 
two  instances  in  which  y  does  not  occur,  have  nothing  in 
common  save  the  absence  of  x,  then  x  is  the  cause  of  y. 

If  we  subtract  from  a  given  effect  all  that  is  due  to  cer- 

1  See  ante.  p.  8. 


THE   METHODS   OF  SCIENCE  95 

tain  causes,  then  the  residue  is  the  effect  of  the  rest  of  the 
causes.  This  is  the  fourth  method — "  that  of  residues." 

Fifthly,  and  lastly,  if  x  and  y  increase,  decrease,  and  vary 
together,  then  one  is  the  cause  of  the  other  or  is  closely 
connected  with  such  cause.  This  is  called  "  the  method  of 
concomitant  variations." 

Objection  has  been  made  to  the  validity  of  such  reason- 
ings on  the  ground  that  the  universe  is  never  the  same  in  all 
particulars  save  one,  at  any  two  successive  instants,  and 
that  two  instances  of  any  event  or  fact  have  never  occurred 
with  only  one  circumstance  in  common.  These  theoretical 
objections  may  also  be  urged  not  only  against  the  above 
"  methods,"  but  against  all  investigations  by  experiment 
and  observation. 

The  objection  is  no  doubt  formally  correct.  The  celestial 
bodies  are  never  in  the  same  position  for  two  successive  in- 
stants, while,  on  the  other  hand,  their  existence  persists 
through  whatever  series  of  experiments  we  carry  on. 

In  all  cases  also  there  are,  and  must  be,  both  a  multitude 
of  persistences  and  a  multitude  of  changes,  no  one  of  which 
we  may  ever  become  aware  of.  But  although  such  theo- 
retical inadequacies  must  be  admitted  to  exist  in  every  such 
proof,  they  can  in  most  cases  be  sufficiently  well  allowed  for 
to  serve  all  practical  purposes. 

The  existence  of  the  Pleiades,  or  even  of  the  mountains 
in  the  moon,  can  be  tranquilly  ignored  while  we  are  trying 
experiments  with  respect  to  the  solidification  of  gases,  nor 
do  the  gavials  of  the  Ganges  interfere  with  careful  investiga- 
tions into  the  development  of  the  amphioxus  or  the  apteryx. 

There  is  hardly  need  to  remind  any  reader  of  this  book 
that  the  "  method  of  agreement  "  is  necessarily  uncertain, 
because  one  effect  may  have  several  causes ;  but  this  defect 
does  not  apply  to  "  the  joint  method  of  agreement  and 
difference." 


96  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

The  idea  as  to  what  may  be  the  cause  of  any  effect  is  gen- 
erally suggested  by  analogy,  or  resemblance  known,  or  sus- 
pected, to  exist  between  causes  and  effects  thought  to  be 
similar  to  the  case  investigated  ;  and,  of  course,  a  cause  will, 
as  a  rule,  be  the  more  easily  discovered  the  greater  the  num- 
ber of  instances  of  the  supposed  effect  we  examine. 

A  suspected  cause  may  be  tested  by  allowing  it  to  operate 
in  circumstances  of  less  complication,  to  see  whether  the 
effect  will  still  be  produced.  This  is,  of  course,  one  import- 
ant instance  of  carrying  on  scientific  experiments.  The 
process  of  seeking  out  analogies  and  resemblances  wisely  is 
perhaps  the  special  characteristic  of  a  sagacious  man  of 
science.  The  process  of  constructing  carefully  thought  out 
hypotheses,  and  then  skilfully  and  accurately  submitting 
them  to  fitting  tests  for  verification,  is  the  method  by  which 
the  greatest  scientific  advances  have  been  made  during  the 
last  three  centuries ;  although  it  must  be  admitted  that  much 
time  and  effort  have  been  wasted  by  the  frequent  emission 
of  careless  and  ill-considered  speculations. 

The  foregoing  observations  with  respect  to  the  methods 
of  science  may  suffice,  because  our  purpose  in  referring  to, 
and  briefly  noting  them  in  the  most  general  terms,  has  not 
been  for  their  own  sake.  We  assume  that  most  of  our 
readers  already  know  as  much  as  we  could  tell  them  with 
respect  to  the  methods  of  science  generally,  and  the  details 
of  such  methods  with  respect  to  those  sciences  with  which 
they  are  best  acquainted. 

Our  purpose  in  devoting  this  chapter  to  a  general  view  of 
the  methods  of  science  has  had  special  reference — as  every 
chapter  in  this  book  has  special  reference — to  the  subject  of 
Epistemology. 

Our  main  object  is  briefly  to  call  attention  to  certain  ideas, 
perceptions,  and  convictions  which  are  present,  in  at  least  a 
latent  condition,  in  every  method  whereby  science  is  pursued 


THE  METHODS   OF  SCIENCE 


97 


and  advanced,  and  consciously  or  unconsciously  in  the  minds 
of  those  who  pursue  it. 

The  question  concerning  the  intellectual  justification  of 
these  ideas,  perceptions,  and  convictions  will  be  entered 
upon  later. 

Now,  doubt  and  scepticism  are  not  only  legitimate  but 
necessary  in  science.  They  are  safeguards  against  rash  as- 
sent to  propositions  inadequately  proved.  True  as  this 
is  as  regards  physical  science,  it  is  still  more  true  with 
regard  to  problems  that  are  ultraphysical,  in  studying 
which  it  is  especially  necessary  to  withhold  assent  from 
what  does  not  appear  to  be  clearly  and  evidently  true  to 
our  own  minds. 

Yet  it  is  possible,  here  as  elsewhere,  to  go  from  one  ex- 
treme to  another,  and  to  become  so  possessed  by  a  tendency 
to  doubt  as  to  forget  the  existence  and  legitimacy  of 
certainty. 

Nevertheless,  we  all  of  us  possess  absolute  certainty  con- 
cerning many  things,  and  this  especially  applies  to  those 
men  who  cultivate  science.  We  are  all  certain  that  science 
has  advanced,  and  that  our  physical  knowledge  is  greater  in 
extent  and  better  grounded  than  it  was  in  the  days  of 
Copernicus.  Every  man  of  science  is  also  certain  that  some 
progress  is  being  made  in  that  department  to  which  he  is 
himself  devoted,  whatever  that  may  be.  But  it  is  obvious 
that  such  advance  would  be  impossible  if  we  could  not,  by 
means  of  observations,  experiments,  and  reasoning,  become 
so  certain  with  respect  to  some  facts  as  to  be  able  to  make 
them  the  starting-points  for  fresh  observations  and  inferences 
as  to  other  facts. 

Thus  for  the  astronomer,  the  earth's  annual  revolution 
round  the  sun,  its  daily  revolution  round  its  own  axis  and 
the  coinciding  of  these  two  revolutions  in  the  case  of  the 
moon,  are  matters  of  absolute  certainty.  No  geologist  en- 


98  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

tertains  the  slightest  doubt  that  the  earth's  crust  is  largely 
composed  of  strata  which  have  been  in  past  ages  deposited 
from  water. 

No  zoologist  can  doubt  that  the  transitory  stages  which 
most  of  the  higher  animals  go  through  in  passing  from  their 
embryonic  to  their  adult  condition,  bear  a  general  resem- 
blance to  permanent  adult  conditions  of  other  animals  of 
lower  types  of  organisation.  In  science,  as  in  matters  of 
every-day  life,  there  are  a  multitude  of  facts  as  to  which  no 
man  in  his  senses  can  entertain  any  doubt.  Though  we  are 
for  the  most  part  content  to  act  on  reasonable  probabilities, 
yet  certainty  attends  us  at  every  turn.  If  we  meet  a  friend 
in  the  street  going  away  from  home,  we  know  that  we  shall 
not  find  him  if  we  go  straight  to  his  house.  If  we  find  on 
returning  to  our  library  that  a  window,  which  we  had  care- 
fully closed  before  starting,  is  open,  we  are  quite  sure  that 
someone  must  have  opened  it.  Such  certainties  about 
ordinary  and  scientific  matters  are  quite  beyond  the  reach 
of  reasonable  doubt,  and  it  is  very  necessary,  for  our  pur- 
pose here,  to  recognise  that  such  is  the  case. 

The  methods  of  science  clearly  imply  a  conviction  on  the 
part  of  those  who  follow  them  that  there  really  is  such  a 
thing  as  legitimate  certainty. 

If  such  were  not  the  case,  there  could  be  no  true  science 
of  any  kind.  Blind  disbelief  would  be  as  fatal  to  science  as 
blind  belief,  and  healthy  and  firm  convictions  must  follow 
the  presence  of  sufficient  evidence,  otherwise  the  progress 
of  science  would  be  fatally  arrested.  It  is  necessary,  then, 
distinctly  to  recognise  that  there  is  such  a  thing  as  legiti- 
mate certainty,  not  to  perceive  the  force  of  which  is  illegiti- 
mate doubt.  The  first  conviction,  then,  to  which  we  desire 
in  this  chapter  to  call  attention  as  being  implicit  in  all  pur- 
suit of  science,  is  the  conviction  that  there  is  such  a  thing 
as  certainty,  and  that  there  are  at  least  some  things  which 


THE  METHODS   OF  SCIENCE  99 

we  can  ascertain  to  be  certainly  true.  In  a  later  chapter  we 
will  consider  the  justification  of  this  conviction,  and  the 
other  convictions  implied  in  the  pursuit  of  science. 

But  what  does  the  assertion  that  anything  can  be  "  cer- 
tainly trtie  "  imply  ? 

"  Truth  "  has  sometimes  been  said  to  be  a  mere  subjective 
feeling  of  the  mind — truth  for  each  man  being  just  that 
which  each  man  troweth  and  no  more.  But  the  objectivity 
of  truth  is  easily  shown,  since  the  sceptic  who  would  deny 
it,  in  denying  it,  refutes  himself.  For  if  the  statement 
"  Truth  is  merely  an  individual  feeling"  were  true,  then 
that  very  statement,  as  a  fact,  would  itself  be  an  objective 
truth,  and  therefore,  more  than  a  mere  individual  feeling. 
But,  as  John  Stuart  Mill  long  ago  pointed  out,  the  recogni- 
tion of  the  truth  of  any  judgment  is  not  only  an  essential 
part,  but  the  essential  part,  of  it  as  a  judgment.  Leave 
that  out,  and  it  remains  a  mere  play  of  thought  in  which  no 
judgment  is  passed.  No  follower  of  any  branch  of  physical 
science  can  doubt  that  truth  is  more  than  a  mere  quality  of 
a  feeling,  or  that  it  has  a  real  relation  to  things  external  to 
his  mind.  Were  not  such  the  case,  science,  once  more, 
could  make  no  progress.  We  do  not  base  our  scientific  in- 
ductions and  deductions  on  what  we  regard  as  so  many 
individual  feelings,  but  upon  what  we  regard  as  facts — real 
relations  between  real  events  and  things — without  a  found- 
ation in  which  our  conclusions  would  be  worthless.  The 
truth  of  physical  science  consists,  and  must  consist,  in  the 
agreement  of  "  thought  "  with  "  things,"  of  the  world  of 
"  perceptions,  ideas,  and  inferences  "  with  the  world  of 

external  existences." 

In  our  last  chapter  we  endeavoured  to  point  out  how  im- 
possible it  is  to  express  the  facts,  processes,  and  conclusions 
of  physical  science  in  terms  of  idealism ;  and  we  find  that 
the  most  devoted  idealists  who  also  follow  some  branch  of 


100  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

physical  science  are  absolutely  forced  by  their  science  to  use 
language  essentially  inconsistent  with  their  philosophy,  of 
which  fact  it  would  be  as  easy  as  it  seems  superfluous  (and 
perhaps  invidious)  to  give  instances. 

But  the  fact  that  the  pursuit  of  science  cannot  be  carried 
on  without  a  real  and  true  apprehension  of  things  objective, 
and  that  we  possess  a  special  faculty  which  certainly  reveals 
to  us  objective  truths,  are  truths  contained  (however  little 
it  may  be  noticed)  in  every  observation  or  experiment  we 
may  make,  and  in  every  conclusion  we  may  draw. 

That  special  faculty  of  ours,  the  wonderful  office  of  which 
it  is  to  reveal  to  us  objectivity  with  absolute  certainty,  is 
our  faculty  of  memory. 

Now,  as  we  hardly  need  say,  everything  which  is  objective 
is  external  to  the  self — to  the  self  which  is  feeling  or  think- 
ing. Thus  all  existences,  even  states  of  the  "  self  "  or  the 
"  Ego,"  which  are  anterior  to  the  time  of  any  actual  think- 
ing are  also  objective:  they  are  objects  of  thought. 

It  is  memory  which  enables  us  to  get,  intellectually,  out- 
side our  present  selves  and  our  present  feelings,  in  a  way 
the  truth  of  wriich  no  sane  man  can  question.  For  memory 
informs  us  with  absolute  certainty  about  some  events  of  our 
past  lives.  There  is  probably  no  one  who  reads  these  pages 
who  is  not  absolutely  sure  that  he  was  doing  some  other 
thing  before  he  began  to  read  them. 

And  since  it  is  thus  actually  demonstrated  to  us  through 
our  memory  that  we  can  know  with  absolute  certainty  things 
which  are  objective  as  regards  time,  it  is  the  less  disputable 
that  our  faculties  have  the  power  also  to  inform  us  as  to 
things  which  are  external  to  us — spatially  objective — and 
that,  as  was  contended  in  the  last  chapter,  we  have  an  in- 
tuition of  real  external  bodies :  an  external  world  as  ordinar- 
ily understood.  The  questions  as  to  the  validity  and  the 
nature  of  memory  will  be  subsequently  considered.  They 


THE  ME  THODS   OF  'SCIENCE  '  I O I 

are  only  here  referred  to  as  auxiliary  to  our  apprehension  of 
objectivity. 

Thus  the  second  conviction  which  we  desire  to  point  out 
as  existing,  at  least  in  a  latent  condition,  in  all  physical 
science,  and  therefore  implied  in  all  its  methods,  is  the  con- 
viction that  an  independent,  extended,  external  world  really 
exists,  that  there  are  truly  objective  existences,  and  that 
truth  is  a  relation  of  conformity  between  the  dictates  of  the 
mind  and  other  really  existing  conditions  and  relations. 

We  have  just  referred  to  our  faculty  of  memory,  and  that 
same  faculty  is  intimately  connected  with  the  third  convic- 
tion which  must  be  latent  in  every  pursuit  of  science.  This 
third  conviction  is  the  certainty  we  have  of  our  own  con- 
tinued personal  existence,  and  along  with  it  the  certainty 
that  we  do,  in  fact,  know  our  actions,  sensations,  reminis- 
cences, emotions,  perceptions,  conceptions,  and  inferences. 

How  would  it  be  possible  for  any  scientific  experiments  to 
be  carried  on  if  we  could  not  be  perfectly  certain  that  it  was 
we  ourselves  who  carried  them  on :  that  it  was  we  who  had 
both  arranged  the  test  conditions  and  also  noted  the  results  ? 
How,  again,  could  we  arrive  at  any  conclusion  if  we  had 
any  doubt  about  our  really  having  felt,  perceived,  or  reasoned 
out  the  results  we  had  felt,  perceived,  or  reasoned  out  ? 

Even  mere  scientific  observation  would  be  impossible  if 
we  had  any  doubt  that  it  was  we  ourselves — one  and  the 
same  person — who  began  the  observation  and  carried  it 
through  to  its  end. 

To  some  of  our  readers  these  remarks  and  queries  may 
seem  superfluous  or  even  idle.  Such,  however,  is  by  no 
means  the  case,  as  the  same  readers  will  clearly  see  if  they 
will  have  patience  to  peruse  this  volume  to  its  close.  The 
truths  which  to  them  may  seem  so  obvious  and  undeniable 
that  their  enumeration  is  unnecessary,  are  truths  which  have 
been  denied,  and  are  denied  by  men  of  very  considerable  in- 


IO2  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

tellectual  distinction.  For  our  purpose,  that  is,  to  obtain  a 
correct  view  as  to  Epistemology,  it  is  extremely  necessary 
to  recognise  the  fact  that  we  cannot  follow  science  if  we 
either,  really  and  truly,  doubt  the  possibility  of  certainty, 
or  the  actual  certainty  of  a  greater  or  less  number  of  facts 
and  principles,  the  truth  of  which  every  science,  whatever  it 
may  be,  necessarily  implies. 

Provisionally  recognising,  then,  the  fact  of  our  continued 
existence,  as  vouched  for  by  memory  (i.  e.,  till  in  our  eighth 
chapter  the  question  is  more  fully  discussed),  and  recognis- 
ing the  fact  of  the  existence  of  an  external  world,  the  com- 
ponents of  which  stand  in  various  active  and  causal  relations 
to  each  other  and  to  us,  we  have  next  to  consider  a  matter 
hardly  less  momentous.  This  is  the  bearing  of  scientific 
progress  on  the  question  of  the  validity  of  the  process  of  in- 
ference. The  remark  hardly  need  be  made  that  no  science 
has  been  developed  or  could  be  made  to  progress  without 
it.  A  direct  knowledge  of  events,  facts,  and  their  relations, 
sufficiently  complete  to  constitute  any  one  of  the  sciences, 
would  be  too  vast  in  extent  to  be  possible  for  the  human 
mind. 

It  is  conceivable  that  other  beings,  endowed  with  much 
greater  and  more  far-reaching  intellectual  powers,  might  be 
able  to  perceive,  by  direct  intuition,  all  that  we  are  able 
laboriously  to  attain  to  by  indirect  processes  of  inference. 
However  that  may  be,  ratiocination  is  necessary  for  us 
(being  no  better  endowed  than  we  are),  and  every  man  of 
science  must  admit  that  valid  inference  is  not  only  a  possi- 
bility, but  a  fact.  He  must  admit  that  inferences  which  are 
perfectly  valid  and  certain  have  been  drawn ;  since,  other- 
wise, there  could  be  no  science  about  the  certainty  of  which 
we  could  rest  secure.  He  also  knows  (as  we  have  already 
seen)  that  there  is  such  a  thing  as  scientific  certainty,  and 
that  to  some  scientific  propositions  we  can  assent  without 


THE  METHODS   OF  SCIENCE  103 

the  least  fear  of  error.  But  this  implies  that  we  may,  and 
that  we  must,  place  confidence  in  the  principles  of  deduction 
— in  that  perception  of  the  mind  which  we  express  by  the 
word  "  therefore."  When  we  use  that  word  we  mean  to 
express  by  it  that  there  is  a  truth,  the  certainty  of  which  is 
shown  through  the  help  of  different  facts  or  principles,  which 
themselves  are  antecedently  known  to  be  true.  The  valid- 
ity of  inference  is,  then,  the  fourth  of  those  truths  to  which 
we  desire  here  to  call  attention  as  being  convictions  implied 
in  physical  science  and  in  all  methods  by  which  that  science 
is  pursued.  Of  the  process  of  inference  itself,  we  shall  have 
more  to  say  hereafter;  all  we  desire  here  to  insist  upon  is 
that  to  deny  its  validity  is  absolutely  to  stultify  the  whole 
of  human  science. 

But  though  inferences  are  necessary  for  science,  our  read- 
ers will  not  forget  that  (as  we  before  pointed  out)  all  reason- 
ing reposes  upon  a  knowledge  of  facts  antecedently  known 
to  be  true.  However  long  our  processes  of  reasoning  may 
be  they  must  stop  somewhere.  If  we  were  bound  to  prove 
everything,  the  process  would  never  end,  and  in  this  way 
again  we  should  be  reduced  to  a  regressus  ad  infinitum,  and 
no  single  proposition  could  ever  be  proved.  It  is  therefore 
certain  that  if  any  inferences  are  true  and  valid  they  must 
ultimately  repose  on  facts  directly  known  to  us  without 
reasoning;  and  our  fifth  conviction,  implicitly  contained  in 
every  method  by  which  science  is  pursued,  is,  and  must  be, 
the  truth  that  there  are  some  propositions  which  carry  with 
them  their  own  evidence,  which  are  evident  in  and  by  them- 
selves. What  is  to  be  said  in  deprecation  or  defence  of  this 
character  of  self-evident  truthfulness  thus  attributed  to  some 
propositions,  we  will  see  later  on.  What  is  here  to  be  noted 
is  the  fact  that  science  can  have  neither  justification,  de- 
velopment, nor  even  existence,  unless  it  be  conceded  that 
not  only  is  the  principle  of  inference  valid,  but  also  that 


104  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

underlying  true  and  valid  inferences,  there  are,  and  must  be, 
in  the  last  resort,  certain  truths  which  are  made  known  to 
us  by  their  own  direct  evidence,  and  need  no  process  of 
proof. 

These  are  intuitive  truths,  directly  apprehended  by  our 
power  of  intellectual  intuition.1  And,  indeed,  it  is  perfectly 
evident  that  the  convictions  at  which  men  of  science  arrive 
,by  means  of  their  observations,  experiments,  and  inferences, 
are  not  blind  convictions  which  they  are  compelled  to  arrive 
at  they  know  not  how  or  why.  They  are  eminently  intelli- 
gent convictions,  attained  by  a  conscious  and  intentional 
pursuit  of  truth,  and  of  which  those  who  hold  them  can 
give  a  good  account,  assigning  valid  reasons  for  the  scientific 
faith  which  is  in  them. 

Amongst  the  facts  and  truths  thus  self-evident  are  certain 
evident  principles  of  reasoning.  Physical  science  is  em- 
phatically experimental  science.  But  every  experiment 
carefully  performed  implies  a  most  important  latent  truth. 
For  when  an  experiment  has  shown  us  that  anything  is 
certain,  as,  for  example,  that  a  newt's  leg  may  grow  again 
after  amputation,  because  one  actually  has  so  grown  again, 
we  shall  find  that  such  certainty  implies  an  a  priori  truth. 
It  implies  that  if  the  newt  has  come  to  have  four  legs  once 
more,  it  cannot  at  the  very  same  time  have  only  three  legs. 
This  remark  may  seem  almost  absurdly  trivial ;  but  it  is  im- 
possible to  make  principles  of  this  kind  too  clear — too  plainly 
certain  and  inevitable — and  there  is  nothing  so  useful  for 
bringing  home  to  the  mind  an  important  abstract  truth  as 
the  presentation  of  a  plain  and  indisputable  concrete  example. 
Anything  we  are  certain  about,  because  it  has  been  proved 
to  us  by  experiment,  is  certain  only  if  we  know,  and  because 
we  know  that  a  thing  which  has  been  actually  proved  can- 
not at  the  same  time  remain  unproven,  and  this  depends 

1  See  ante,  pp.  14,  47. 


THE  METHODS   OF  SCIENCE  105 

again  on  a  still  more  fundamental  truth  which  our  reason 
recognises — the  truth,  namely,  that  "nothing  can  at  the 
same  time  both  be  and  not  be  "—the  truth  known  as  the 
principle  of  contradiction,  which  we  here  bring  forward  as 
the  sixth  conviction  which  must  be  tacitly,  if  not  expressly, 
recognised  by  everyone  who  cultivates  science.  It  is,  at 
lea.3t,  latent  in  every  scientific  method  we  employ.  Whether 
or  not,  in  ultimate  analysis,  the  validity  of  this  principle  can 
be  sustained,  it  is  at  least  certain  that  it  is  constantly  acted 
on;  and  this  not  only  in  the  pursuit  of  science,  but  in  the 
judgments  and  actions  of  every-day  life. 

A  seventh  conviction,  which  is  latent  and  is  acted  upon 
in  all  the  methods  of  science,  is  that  of  the  truth  of  such 
axioms  as  "  the  whole  is  greater  than  its  part,"  and  that 
"  things  which  are  equal  to  the  same  thing  are  equal  to 
each  other."  Merely  noting  this  fact,  which  no  one  will 
care  to  dispute,  and  reserving  what  more  we  may  have  to 
say  about  it  for  a  subsequent  chapter,  we  will  pass  on  to  the 
eighth  conviction  implied,  and  at  least  latent  in  the  methods 
of  science,  namely,  the  principle  of  causation.  However 
much  the  validity  of  this  principle  may  be  disputed  by  philo- 
sophers— and  such  disputes  will  be  considered  later — it  is 
impossible  to  deny  that  it  is  practically  acted  upon  by  those 
who  prosecute  any  branch  of  physical  science.  It  is  indis- 
putable that  any  sudden  and  unexpected  change  which  may 
be  detected  by  any  scientific  observer,  is  at  once  put  down 
as  due  to  some  cause,  while  he  will  often  do  his  utmost  to 
detect  what  that  cause  may  be.  That  no  change  can  take 
place,  that  no  new  existence  can  arise,  save  as  the  result  of 
causation,  is  spontaneously  acted  on  by  every  man  of 
science,  and,  indeed,  by  every  man  of  ordinary  intelligence, 
as  if  it  were  the  most  certain  and  indisputable  of  axioms. 
Closely  connected  with  this  principle  is  the  ninth  conviction, 
namely,  the  conviction  that  the  course  of  nature  is  uniform. 


106  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

The  uniformity  of  nature  is  so  evidently  necessary  an  as- 
sumption for  all  who  would  investigate  nature's  phenomena 
and  ascertain  her  laws,  that  the  mere  mention  of  the  fact  is 
all  that  seems  necessary  at  this  stage  of  our  progress. 

Lastly,  since  we  have  seen  that  the  methods  of  science 
imply  the  conviction  on  our  part  that  some  truths  are  nec- 
essary, and  that  they  reveal  to  us  objective  necessities  in 
external  nature,  we  must  here  set  down  the  tenth  and  last 
of  those  convictions  to  which  we  desire  to  call  attention. 
This  is  the  conviction  that  there  really  is  a  condition  ex- 
pressed by  the  abstract  term  necessity,  a  term  which  would 
be  meaningless  without  the  correlative  condition  and  term 
contingency. 

Reserving,  as  before  said,  for  a  future  occasion,  an 
examination  into  the  validity  of  the  fundamental  assump- 
tions which  must  be  made  by  all  who  pursue  physical 
science,  and  which  are  latent  in  its  every  method,  we  may 
briefly  tabulate  those  assumptions  as  follows : 

(1)  It  is  possible  to  arrive  at  certain    knowledge  about 

some  things,  and  some  absolute  scientific  certainty 
has  been  actually  attained. 

(2)  An  external  objective  world  exists  and  is  truly  appre- 

hended by  some  of  our  intellectual  acts,  an  abso- 
lutely certain  knowledge  of  objectivity  being  afforded 
us  through  memory,  which  reveals  to  us  real  exist- 
ences external  to  all  our  present  experience. 

(3)  We  can  know  not  only  our  actions,  sensations,  im- 

aginations, reminiscences,  perceptions,  conceptions, 
and  inferences,  but  also  our  own  substantial  and 
continuous  personal  existence. 

(4)  We  know  that  if  certain  premises  be  true,  then  what- 

ever logically  follows  from  them  must  be  true  like- 
wise. 


THE  METHODS   OF  SCIENCE  107 

(5)  Since  we  thus  know  certain  truths  indirectly  by  in- 

ference, we  must  also  know  some  things  directly  and 
see  that  they  are  self-evident. 

(6)  Nothing  can  at  the  same  time  both  be  and  not  be. 

(7)  Some  axioms  are  self-evident. 

(8)  Every  change  and  every  new  existence  must  be  due 

to  some  cause. 

(9)  Nature  is  uniform. 

(10)  Some  things  are  necessary  and  others  are  contingent. 

The  fact  that  the  above  ten  propositions  are  true  aud  cer- 
tain is  then  implied  by  the  methods  of  science. 

Unless  we  are  convinced,  and  act  on  the  conviction,  that 
the  propositions  thus  implied  are  true,  science  is  logically 
impossible,  and  any  scientific  man  who  should  deny  any  one 
of  them  would  either  deceive  himself  or  try  to  deceive  other 
people.  Without  their  acceptance  it  is  impossible  to  have 
any  consistent,  harmonious,  and  stable  system  of  ordered 
knowledge — any  true  science.  More  than  that,  if  these 
ten  propositions  were  really  doubted  by  anyone,  he  would 
thereby  necessarily  fall  into  a  state  of  mental  paralysis 
and  intellectual  inanition,  in  all  that  relates  to  scientific 
knowledge. 

Having  thus  recognised  these  important  convictions, 
which  find  a  necessary  place  amongst  the  implications  of 
science,  we  may  next  proceed  to  consider  what  are  the 
physical  and  mental  antecedents  of  all  and  every  science. 

A  knowledge  of  such  physiological  and  psychical  facts 
will  serve  as  an  introduction  to  the  study  of  our  highest  in- 
tellectual powers,  the  dicta  of  which  can  alone  enable  us  to 
judge  whether  we  can  attain  to  a  knowledge  of  the  ground- 
work of  science,  and,  if  so,  what  that  groundwork  may,  or 
must,  be. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  PHYSICAL  ANTECEDENTS  OF  SCIENCE 

WE  have  no  experience  of  knowledge  save  as  consisting 
of  mental  states — our  own,  and  those  which  ob- 
servation reveals  to  us  as  existing  in  other  minds.  We  have 
no  experience  of  mental  states  save  as  immanent  in  a  living 
body — our  own,  and  those  of  other  living  beings.  Without 
mental  states  we  cannot  hope  for  knowledge,  and  without 
organised  knowledge  there  is  no  science.  The  groundwork 
of  science,  as  known  to  us  by  experience,  may  so  far,  there- 
fore, be  said  to  be  twofold:  (i)  mental  and  (2)  corporeal. 
Granting,  for  argument's  sake,  the  essential  independence 
of  intellect  from  all  that  is  material  substance,  nevertheless 
we  men,  here  and  now,  have  no  experience  whatever  of  it 
apart  from  matter,  apart  from  living  organised  matter, 
and  apart  from  living  matter  with  a  special  and  definite  form 
of  organisation. 

If,  then,  it  should  be  objected  that  the  groundwork  of 
science  is,  and  must  be,  purely  intellectual,  we  can  at 
least  reply  that,  so  far  as  our  actual  experience  goes, 
material  conditions — a  special  kind  of  living  organisa- 
tion— are  at  least  a  sine  qua  non  for  our  apprehension  of 
such  groundwork. 

The  groundwork  of  science  must  be  closely  related  to  the 
nature  of  science  itself.  Now  science,  as  we  have  seen,  is 
an  organised  result  of  knowledge;  knowledge  is  dependent 

108 


THE  PHYSICAL  ANTECEDENTS   OF  SCIENCE         IOQ 

on,  and  called  forth  by  feelings;  and  feelings  area  result  of 
a  normal,  vital  condition  of  a  physical  organisation.  To  un- 
derstand fully  what  is  psychical,  it  is,  therefore,  generally 
necessary  to  have  a  certain  acquaintance  with  what  is  physi- 
ological and  physical.  Moreover,  as  function  depends  on 
structure,  any  sufficient  comprehension  of  the  vital  activities 
of  our  frame  necessitates  some  previous  acquaintance  with 
its  physical  organisation — its  anatomy.  As  we  cannot  vent- 
ure to  assume  that  the  great  majority  erf  our  readers  are 
possessed  of  even  a  small  amount  of  anatomical  and  physio- 
logical knowledge,  we  feel  it  impossible  to  dispense  with 
some  description  of  the  physical  antecedents  of  science 
(readers,  however,  who  do  possess  such  knowledge,  and  an 
elementary  knowledge  of  zoology,  had  better  pass  over  this 
chapter  unread),  related  as  they  necessarily  are  to  the 
groundwork  of  all  science,  which  it  is  our  ultimate  object 
to  study  and  endeavour  to  comprehend. 

Very  little,  however,  need  be  said  here,  except  with  re- 
spect to  that  substance  and  those  organs  of  the  body  which 
are  the  necessary  means  by  which  alone  we  are  capable  of 
different  special  feelings  and  imaginations,  or  of  any  feelings 
at  all. 

Feeling,  knowledge,  thought,  everyone  knows  to  be  car- 
ried on  by  us  only  in  a  living  body,  which  ought  to  be  in  a 
sufficiently  healthy  and  normal  state.  Abnormal  conditions 
may  be  accompanied  by  an  absence,  or  paralysis,  of  one  or 
more  of  our  senses,  or  by  various  forms  of  mental  aberration 
down  to  complete  idiocy.  In  order,  therefore,  to  have  a 
satisfactory  comprehension  of  our  powers  of  thinking  (one 
indispensable  preliminary  for  investigating  the  groundwork 
of  science),  it  is  necessary  to  have  some  knowledge  of  those 
vital  functions  which  are  necessary  for  the  exercise  of 
thought ;  and  to  understand  them,  as  already  intimated,  we 
require  to  know  something  of  the  order  and  condition  of 


HO  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

that  special  mechanism  the  actions  of  which  so  nearly  con- 
cern  us. 

To  appreciate  correctly  human  thought,  it  is  also  necessary 
to  know  something  of  the  psychical  powers  of  living  creat- 
ures which  are  not  human.  Some  adequate  notion  as  to 
man's  place  in  nature  cannot  be  dispensed  with  by  anyone 
who  would  estimate  at  their  just  value  the  products  of 
human  thought.  We  have  already  enumerated  the  sciences 
which  deal  with  living  things,1  and  probably  no  one  will  dis- 
pute the  assertion  that  man,  corporeally  considered,  is  a 
kind  of  animal,  and  that  the  sciences  which  relate  to  animals 
generally  relate,  therefore,  to  him  also. 

The  multitude  of  species  which  compose  what  is  called 
the  "  animal  kingdom  "  is  so  vast  that  it  would  be  impos- 
sible to  study  them  otherwise  than  by  classifying  them  in  a 
number  of  more  and  more  subordinate  groups,  each  of  which 
is  defined  by  an  enumeration  of  certain  structural  characters 
which  the  creatures  included  in  such  group  possess  in  com- 
mon. It  is  usual  to  divide  the  animal  kingdom  into  two 
great  groups,  the  lower  of  which  is  made  up  by  creatures 
the  whole  body  of  each  of  which  is  composed  of  a  single  cell, 
or,  at  most,  a  few  cells  only.  Of  these  creatures,  animal- 
cules of  various  kinds,  it  is  not  necessary  for  our  present 
purpose  to  say  more  than  a  few  words.  One  kind,  the 
Amceba,  may  here  be  mentioned,  as  it  is  so  often  referred 
to  as  closely  resembling  certain  particles  (known  as  the 
colourless  corpuscles)  in  human  blood.  It  is  a  microscopic 
creature,  consisting  of  a  minute  piece  of  "  protoplasm,"  with 
some  internal  modifications,  which  protrudes  parts  of  its 
body  in  the  form  of  short,  blunt  projections,  and  feeds  by 
engulfing  what  it  preys  on  into  its  body  at  various  parts  of 
its  surface.  The  bell-animalcule,  or  Vorticella,  may  also  be 
referred  to  for  the  following  reason : — its  bell-shaped  body 

1  See  Chapter  ii.,  pp.  24,  32. 


THE  PHYSICAL   ANTECEDENTS  OF  SCIENCE         III 

is  connected  with  a  fixed  point  of  support  by  means  of  an 
elongated  stem,  traversed  by  a  special  fibre.  At  the  slight- 
est shock  this  fibre  contracts,  and  throwing  the  filament 
into  curves,  draws  the  body  of  the  creature  near  to  the  point 
of  attachment  of  the  filament. 

The  second  division  of  the  animal  kingdom  consists  of 
creatures  the  body  of  each  of  which  is  formed  by  a  multitude 
of  cells  which  are  aggregated  together  into,  or  give  rise  to, 
various  kinds  of  distinct  substances,  termed  "  tissues  " — 
such  as  bone,  gristle,  muscle,  nerve,  etc.,  etc. 

The  lowest  of  these  many-celled  animals  are  the  sponges, 
and  the  cells  which  compose  their  bodies  are  arranged  in 
two  layers. 

Next  come  the  zoophytes,  or  plant-like  animals  (corals, 
sea-anemones,  jelly-fishes,  etc.),  to  which  succeed  the  star- 
fishes, sea-urchins,  and  their  allies.  A  multitude  of  creatures 
compose  at  least  two  large  groups  of  worms,  of  which  the 
leeches  and  earth-worms  may  serve  as  examples  of  the 
higher  kinds.  We  have  then  an  enormous  group,  Arthro- 
poda,  which  embraces  all  insects,  hundred-legs,  scorpions, 
spiders,  mites,  crabs,  lobsters,  and  shrimp-like  creatures. 
We  have,  again,  a  very  much  less  extensive  group  of  Mol- 
lusca,  which  includes  all  snails,  whelks,  cuttle-fishes,  oysters, 
mussels,  etc.  Lastly  we  have  the  group  of  backboned 
animals  (fishes,  reptiles,  birds,  and  beasts),  to  which  we 
ourselves  belong.  Of  beasts,  or  mammals,  there  are  some 
dozen  different  orders,  such  as  opossums,  whales,  rats,  and 
squirrels,  cattle,  bats,  beasts  of  prey,  apes,  etc. 

The  structure  of  man's  body  closely  resembles  that  of 
the  higher  apes,  while  ape  and  man  agree  to  differ  so  much 
from  all  other  mammals  that  they  may  be  said  to  stand,  as 
it  were,  on  a  zoological  island  by  themselves.  Thus  man, 
when  only  structurally  considered,  is  a  species  of  the  order 
of  apes,  though  widely  differing  from  most  of  them. 


112  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

Such  being  man's  place  in  nature  as  regards  the  structure 
of  his  body,  it  remains  briefly  to  pass  in  review  the  main 
facts  of  that  body's  organisation. 

As  everyone  knows,  the  human  frame  is  a  very  complex 
structure :  a  mass  of  flesh  (composed  of  a  great  number  of 
muscles  of  different  sizes)  embracing  a  skeleton  and  clothed 
with  skin — the  skeleton  consisting  of  the  skull,  backbone, 
ribs,  and  the  bones  of  the  two  pairs  of  limbs.  Within  the 
body  are  the  heart,  lungs,  stomach,  intestines,  liver,  kidneys, 
etc.  The  skull  and  backbone  together  enclose  a  mass  of 
soft,  white  substance — the  brain  and  spinal  marrow  or  spinal 
cord.  Delicate  threads  of  similar  substance  (nerves)  and 
tubes  of  various  sizes  (vessels)  traverse  the  body  in  all 
directions. 

Conditions  essentially  similar,  but  differing  greatly  in 
various  ways  in  different  groups  (thus,  e.  g.,  there  may  be 
but  two  pairs  of  limbs  or  none),  prevail  in  all  beasts,  birds, 
and  reptiles. 

Organs  nearly  related  to  each  other  form  what  are  termed 
"  systems  "  of  organs.  Thus  the  muscles,  each  of  which  is 
made  up  of  a  mass  of  fibres,  and  are  of  different  shapes  and 
sizes  (muscles  of  the  limbs,  trunk,  head,  jaws,  etc.),  consti- 
tute "the  muscular  system."  Muscles  are  generally  at- 
tached by  their  opposite  extremities  to  different  bones. 
Thus,  again,  the  mouth,  stomach,  and  alimentary  canal, 
with  their  appendages,  form  the  "  alimentary  system  "  ;  the 
heart,  with  all  the  tubes  (arteries,  veins,  etc.)  connected 
with  it,  composes  the  "  circulating  system  "  ;  the  windpipe 
and  lungs  constitute  the  "  respiratory  system  "  ;  the  organs 
concerned  with  reproduction  are  the  "  generative  system  "  ; 
and  the  brain,  spinal  cord,  and  all  the  nerves  of  the  body 
together  make  up  the  "  nervous  system."  These  groups 
of  organs  are  respectively  named  as  above,  because  they 
severally  minister  to  vital  actions  termed  "  bodily  motion," 


THE  PHYSICAL   ANTECEDENTS  OF  SCIENCE         113 

"  alimentation,"  "  circulation,"  "  respiration,"  "  genera- 
tion," and  "  sensation  "  (or  "  feeling  "). 

The  functions  of  alimentation,  circulation,  respiration,  and 
generation  also  take  place  in  plants,  and  are  indispensable 
for  organic  life.  Thus  they  may  be  said  to  exist  and  prepare 
the  way  for  development  of  the  higher  animal  functions  of 
locomotion  and  sensation.  It  is  with  the  last-named  func- 
tion alone  and  the  organs  which  serve  it — the  nervous  sys- 
tem, including  its  annexed  organs  of  special  sense — that  we 
have  here  to  do.  Nevertheless,  it  should  be  noted  that  in 
order  to  act  properly  the  organs  of  the  nervous  system  re- 
quire an  adequate  supply  of  blood  from  the  circulating 
system,  which  blood  must  be  sufficiently  refreshed  through 
the  respiratory  system  and  purified  by  organs  of  "  secre- 
tion," while  it  must  also  be  adequately  supplied  with  suffi- 
cient and  appropriate  nutritious  matter  by  the  alimentary 
system.  Through  an  inadequate  supply  of  blood,  or 
through  blood  insufficiently  nourished,  purified,  or  refreshed, 
the  actions  of  the  nervous  system  become  perverted  or 
paralysed  till  death  ensues. 

The  entire  nervous  system  is  divisible  into  two  main  parts : 
a  central  and  a  peripheral  portion.  The  central  part  con- 
sists of  the  brain  and  spinal  cord,  which  are  directly  contin- 
uous. Its  peripheral  part  is  made  of  all  the  nerves  of  the 
body.  The  spinal  cord  (enclosed  within  the  backbone)  is 
divisible  into  two  lateral  halves,  and  nerves,  called  spinal 
nerves,  are  connected  with  it  symmetrically  in  pairs  (one 
right  and  one  left),  one  nerve  to  each  of  its  lateral  halves. 
Each  spinal  nerve  is  connected  with  the  spinal  cord  by  two 
roots,  one  anterior  in  position  and  the  other  posterior,  and 
each  root  is  made  up  of  a  number  of  small  bundles  of  nerve 
fibres.  The  fibres  connected  with  the  hinder  and  the  ante- 
rior part  of  each  lateral  half  of  the  spinal  cord,  are  mixed 
and  run  together  into  the  nerves — or  rather  compose  them 


114  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

— but  those  connected  with  its  anterior  half  go  especially  to 
the  muscles,  while  those  from  its  posterior  half  go  especially 
to  the  skin. 

Within  the  spinal  cord  itself  is  a  mass  of  longitudinal 
nervous  fibres  and  more  or  less  spherical  nervous  "  cells." 
The  fibres  extend  upwards  and  downwards,  towards  and 
from  the  brain,  and  are  closely  connected  with  the  spinal 
nerves. 

The  brain  (which  is  entirely  enclosed  within  the  skull, 
and  is  composed  of  delicate  nervous  filaments  and  a  multi- 
tude of  cells)  is  the  expanded  summit  of  the  whole  nervous 
axis,  and  may  be  said  to  consist  of  three  noticeable  portions : 

(1)  The  hindmost  under  part,  or  medulla,  which  may  be  de- 
scribed as  the  expanded  upper  part  of  the  spinal  cord,  so 
becoming  the  posterior  portion  of  the  base  of  the  brain. 

(2)  The  cerebellum,  a  rounder,  narrowly  grooved  prominence, 
forming  the  posterior  under  portion  of  the  brain.     (3)  The 
third  part,  which  is  by  far  the  largest,  is  formed  in  part  by 
the  continuance  forwards  and  the  divergence  of  the  nervous 
axis,  in  part  by  connection  with  the  cerebellum,  and  also  by 
a  very  large  quantity  of  nervous  tissue  apparently  independ- 
ent of   either.     This  whole  mass,   called  the  cerebrum,  is 
divided  by  a  deep,  median  groove  into  two  lateral  halves — 
the  cerebral  hemispheres — which  form  the  whole  of  the  upper 
surface  of  the  brain,  and  are  marked  all  over  by  meandering 
rounded  prominences — the  convolutions  of  the  brain.     The 
cerebral  hemispheres  are  deemed  to  be  main  agents  in  oc- 
casioning our  sensations  and  imaginations,   and  it  is  very 
noteworthy  that  as  we  have  two  eyes  and  two  ears,  so  also 
we  have  two  distinct  yet  similar  cerebral  organs  which  are 
of   such    importance.     The   greater  number  of  the  nerves 
which  proceed  from  the   brain   have   their   origin   in   the 
medulla.     This  is  notably  the  case  with  those  which  go  to 
the  lungs,  stomach,  and  heart.     Perhaps  the  most  import- 


THE  PHYSICAL   ANTECEDENTS   OF  SCIENCE         115 

ant,  for  our  purpose,  of  all  the  structures  which  make  up 
our  bodily  frame,  are  those  organs  by  the  aid  of  which,  in 
unison  with  the  brain,  we  are  enabled  to  have  sensations  of 
different  kinds. 

The  organ  of  sight  consists  essentially  of  an  extremely 
delicate  membrane,  the  retina,  wherein  are  a  multitude  of 
minute  bodies  called  rods  and  cones  placed  side  by  side,  and 
lining  the  rear  of  the  eyeball.  The  retina  is  an  expansion 
of  the  optic  nerve  (or  nerve  of  sight),  through  which  it  is 
directly  continuous  with  the  substance  of  the  brain  itself. 

The  eyeball  is  bounded  by  a  tough  spherical  case,  and 
contains  within  it  three  transparent  media,  of  different  dens- 
ities, while  it  is  itself  transparent  anteriorly.  It  also  con- 
tains a  mechanism  to  facilitate  vision  at  different  distances, 
and  its  transparent  media  produce  a  picture  (though  an  in- 
verted picture)  of  what  is  opposite  the  eye,  on  the  posterior 
part  of  the  internal  lining  of  the  eyeball. 

As  each  eye  forms  an  image  of  what  is  opposite  it,  the 
two  pictures  simultaneously  formed  in  the  two  eyes  slightly 
differ  from  each  other.  They,  of  course,  must  do  so, 
since  each  looks  out  on  the  world  from  a  different  point 
of  view. 

The  essential  organ  of  hearing  in  man  (and  also  in  back- 
boned animals)  consists  of  most  delicate  nervous  fibres, 
which  are  distributed  over  a  small,  complexly  shaped  mem- 
branous bag  containing  fluid,  and  itself  surrounded  by 
another  fluid,  which  is  enclosed  in  a  cavity  (corresponding  in 
shape  to  the  bag  it  encloses)  in  the  densest  bone  of  the  skull, 
some  distance  within  the  opening  on  the  surface  of  the  side 
of  the  head,  surrounded  by  that  conspicuous  projection  com- 
monly spoken  of  as  "  the  ear."  The  nerve  of  hearing  passes 
outwards  from  the  brain,  traverses  a  canal  through  the  dense 
bone  just  referred  to,  which  canal  gives  it  entrance  into  the 
cavity  wherein  lies  the  membranous  structure  before  men- 


Il6  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

tioned,  and  wherein  the  ultimate  filaments  of  the  auditory 
nerve  terminate. 

The  organ  of  smell  is  composed  of  minute  terminal  fila- 
ments of  very  delicate  nerves  (olfactory  nerves),  which  pro- 
ceed downwards,  from  two  special  prolongations  of  the 
brain,  to  the  moist  membrane  which  lines  the  uppermost 
part  of  the  cavity  of  the  nostrils. 

The  organ  of  taste  also  consists  of  minute  nervous  fila- 
ments, distributed  in  the  tongue  and  the  hinder  portion  of 
the  palate,  which  filaments  are  derived  from  two  gustatory 
nerves,  by  which  the  gustatory  filaments  are  brought  into 
direct  connection  with  the  brain,  as  in  the  three  sense 
organs  before  noticed. 

The  organ  of  touch  is  very  widely  distributed,  consisting 
as  it  does  of  a  multitude  of  nervous  filaments  that  ramify 
and  end  in  the  skin,  which  is,  however,  very  differently  sup- 
plied by  these  nerves  in  different  parts,  some  parts  being 
much  more  richly  supplied  than  others.  These  fibres  are 
connected  with  some  part  of  the  nervous  axis,  either  the 
brain  or  the  spinal  cord. 

Having  gained  an  elementary  acquaintance  with  the 
structure  of  the  human  body,  and  of  its  component  systems 
of  organs,  we  have  next  to  consider  what  those  organs  and 
systems  of  organs  do,  what  are  their  functions,  and  espe- 
cially those  of  the  nervous  system. 

The  functions  of  muscles  everyone  is  in  a  general  way  ac- 
quainted with,  i.  e.,  that  their  special  activity  is  to  produce 
motion.  To  do  this  they  contract,  becoming  shorter  and 
thicker,  and  thus  bringing  nearer  together  the  two  parts  to 
which  the  two  ends  of  any  muscle  may  be  respectively 
attached,  and  it  is  by  these  means  that  all  movements  of 
the  body  are  effected.  Most  muscular  movements  are  vol- 
untary, but  others  are  independent  of  the  will.  Such  is  the 
case  with  those  of  the  heart  and  alimentary  canal.  Some, 


THE  PHYSICAL   ANTECEDENTS  OF  SCIENCE         \\J 

like  our  respiratory  movements,  ordinarily  take  place  inde- 
pendently of  our  will,  but  can  be  performed  voluntarily,  and 
can  be  voluntarily  suspended.  Soon,  however,  the  power 
of  voluntarily  restraining  them  ceases,  and  they  take  place 
in  spite  of  all  our  efforts  to  the  contrary.  Movements  begun 
with  a  voluntary  effort  may  be  subsequently  carried  on 
automatically,  as  we  see  in  setting  out  for  a  walk.  Such 
movements  may  be  carried  on  much  better  automatically 
than  when  attended  to.  Attention  often  positively  impedes 
the  rapidity  and  accuracy  of  our  movements,  as  is  easily 
seen  if  we  begin  to  consider  what  our  movements  are  as  we 
are  running  downstairs. 

The  agents  which  induce  muscular  contraction  are  termed 
stimuli.  Such  are  heat,  cold,  a  puncture,  a  very  acrid  or 
acid  substance,  electricity,  and,  normally,  the  influence  of 
the  nerves  supplied  to  muscles,  and  emotion  and  volition 
each  may  be  a  stimulus.  Stimuli  physically  equal  have  a 
more  powerful  effect  when  acting  on  a  muscle  through  a 
nerve  than  when  acting  directly  on  the  muscle  itself. 

We  have  seen  that  muscular  movements  may  take  place 
in  us  without  .any  advertence  thereto  on  our  part,  and,  of 
course,  such  actions  are  quite  independent  of  our  will.  But 
much  more  wonderful,  when  we  come  to  think  over  it,  is 
the  fact  that  muscular  contractions  will  take  place  in  appro- 
priate groups,  resulting  in  co-ordinated  movements  and 
groups  of  groups  of  such  movements,  which  not  only  we  do 
not  will,  but  which  we  do  not  even  know !  How  wonderful, 
when  we  carefully  consider  it,  is  the  trivial  act  of  a  lad 
throwing  a  stone  at  a  mark!  How  complex  must  be  the 
co-ordinated  movements  between  different  parts  of  the 
body  in  order  to  produce  even  such  a  result!  The  lad's 
mind  has  little  to  do  with  it  beyond  the  one  impulse  to  hit 
the  mark.  He  knows  nothing  of  anatomy,  but  simply  sets 
going  the  wonderful  mechanism  of  his  body,  and  this  works 


Il8  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

out  the  desired  effect  for  him,  just  as  if  it  were  an  elaborate 
machine.  In  the  first  place,  the  various  movable  parts  of 
his  eyes  must  be  so  adjusted  that  he  may  see  the  mark  dis- 
tinctly. Then  his  body  must  be  held  in  a  proper  position, 
the  stone  be  grasped  with  just  the  right  amount  of  firmness 
(that  is,  certain  muscles  must  be  contracted  to  the  proper 
amount),  the  arm  must  be  thrown  back  to  the  due  extent, 
and  its  muscles  contracted,  in  co-ordination  with  the  move- 
ments of  the  eyes,  and  with  just  that  degree  of  vigour  which, 
as  his  fingers  are  relaxed,  will  carry  the  stone  as  he  desires 
it  should  go.  Thus  various  complex  groups  of  movements 
may  be  synthesised  without  our  will  and  without  our  know- 
ledge— so  as  to  result  in  the  production  of  one  complex 
action  of  the  whole  body. 

Besides  these  conspicuous  movements,  a  multitude  of 
minute  ones  are  continually  taking  place  in  the  living  body 
— movements  which  we  not  only  cannot  feel  but  can  in  no 
way  perceive  in  ourselves.  They  can  only  be  perceived  in 
animals  by  making  use  of  various  devices,  including  the  use 
of  the  microscope. 

We  have  mentioned  the  function  of  alimentation  as  that 
of  the  system  of  organs  termed  alimentary — organs  which 
receive  and  digest  food.  But  though  these  organs  do  in 
this  way  minister  to  that  function,  nutrition  ultimately  takes 
place  in  parts  altogether  out  of  reach  of  all  our  powers  of 
observation,  consisting  as  it  does  in  the  reception  of  new 
elements  into  the  very  ultimate  substance  of  the  body — the 
change  of  the  prepared  residuum  of  the  food  we  have  eaten 
into  our  own  living  flesh  and  blood,  i.  e.y  assimilation. 
That  this  does  take  place  is  absolutely  certain,  but  how  it 
takes  place  is  an  entirely  unsolved  problem.  Moreover,  it 
is  to  be  noted  that  this  function,  so  absolutely  necessary  for 
life,  takes  place  in  the  intimate  substance  of  the  body  be- 
yond the  terminal  filaments  of  the  ramifying  nerves. 


THE  PHYSICAL   ANTECEDENTS  OF  SCIENCE         119 

We  have  spoken  of  "  the  circulation  "  as  the  function  of 
the  organs  which  compose  the  "  circulating  system."  But 
over  and  above  that  great  stream  of  life  there  is  a  minute 
circulation  which  takes  place  within  each  smallest  particle 
of  the  body's  substance  (just  as  it  takes  place  in  unicellular 
animals),  for  the  sake  of  which  multitudinous  microscopic 
streamlets  the  great  sanguineous  current  may  be  said  to 
exist. 

Respiration  consists  in  the  gaseous  exchange  to  which  our 
breathing  organs  minister.  But  it  is  not  in  that  conspicuous 
respiratory  process  which  is  evident  to  our  senses  that  the 
process  really  consists.  It  is  in  the  minute  gaseous  inter- 
change which  takes  place  in  the  ultimate  and  intimate  com- 
ponents of  the  body's  substance. 

Similarly,  "  secretion  "  is  a  process  of  formation,  by 
organs,  from  the  blood  of  products  which  did  not  previously 
exist  as  such  within  it.  It  is  thus  analogous  to  the  power 
by  which  the  various  tissues  that  compose  the  body  are  en- 
abled to  add  to  their  own  substance  from  the  life-stream 
which  bathes  them,  though  their  substance  does  not  exist  as 
such  in  that  stream.  Thus  the  process  of  assimilation  in 
which  alimentation  culminates  is  analogous  to  secretion. 

Having  thus,  in  the  briefest  manner,  noticed  the  most 
essential  facts  concerning  various  bodily  functions,  we  may 
next  turn  to  our  special  subject  in  this  chapter — the  func- 
tions of  the  nervous  system.  In  the  first  place,  it  is  by  the 
agency  of  this  system  that  all  the  other  organic  activities  of 
the  human  body  are  carried  on.  Without  its  aid  all  nutri- 
tion, growth,  circulation,  respiration,  and  muscular  motion 
would  not  exist,  just  as  its  activity  would  be  arrested  were 
it  not  nourished  by  a  sufficient  supply  of  duly  constituted 
blood. 

But  besides  organic  activities,  this  system  also  ministers 
to,  and  is  necessary  for,  sensation,  and,  therefore,  for  know- 


120  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

ledge,  seeing,  once  more,  that  the  latter  is  impossible  for  us 
except  as  following  upon  sensation.  The  nervous  system 
is  thus  the  special,  the  only,  intermediary  between  our  con- 
sciousness and  the  external  world,  and  the  only  bridge  be- 
tween the  subjective  and  all  that  is  objective  besides  itself. 
It  both  receives  the  various  effects  to  which  the  world  about 
us  and  our  own  body  can  give  rise  to  within  it,  and  which 
result  in  sensations;  and  it  also  causes  all  the  movements 
which  take  place  in  response  to  stimuli.  But  it  is  necessary 
to  note  that  it  not  only  acts  as  an  intermediary  between 
each  organ  and  its  environment,  through  the  sensations  to 
which  it  gives  rise,  but  also  that  it  so  acts  without  the  in- 
tervention of  sensations.  When  acted  on  by  external  influ- 
ences it  may,  and  constantly  does,  excite  corresponding 
activities  in  our  body  without  giving  rise  to  any  feeling  of 
which  we  are  conscious.  The  special  consideration  of 
sensation  itself,  its  various  forms,  and  their  other  mental 
accompaniments  and  effects,  will  be  considered  in  our  next 
chapter  on  the  psychical  antecedents  of  science ;  but  sensa- 
tion in  its  physiological  aspect,  in  so  far  as  it  is  related  to 
different  portions  and  diverse  conditions  of  parts  of  the 
nervous  system,  concerns  us  here  and  now. 

As  everyone  knows,  different  parts  of  the  nervous  system 
have  different  functions,  and  the  special  functions  of  differ- 
ent nerves  are  partly  learned  by  the.  study  of  their  distribu- 
tion, and  partly  by  the  simplest  observations.  Thus  an 
irritation  of  the  nerve  which  goes  to  the  eye  (to  the  retina) 
or  to  the  internal  ear,  does  not  produce  feeling  in  the  ordinary 
sense  of  that  word,  but  only  certain  sensations  of  light  or  of 
sound.  The  nerves  which,  as  before  said,  are  connected  in 
pairs  with  the  spinal  cord,  minister  either  to  sensation  or  to 
motion,  according  to  their  distributions  and  connections. 

If  one  of  these  nerves  be  divided,  and  the  part  cut  off  from 
the  spinal  cord  be  irritated,  then  motion  ceases  in  the 


THE  PHYSICAL   ANTECEDENTS   OF  SCIENCE         121 

muscles  to  which  such  nerve  is  distributed,  but  no  pain 
accompanies  such  irritation.  If  the  part  which  remains 
attached  to  the  spinal  cord  be  irritated,  then  pain  is  caused 
but  not  motion.  If  the  so-called  posterior  root '  of  a  spinal 
nerve  alone  be  severed,  the  parts  supplied  with  twigs  from 
such  nerve  only,  lose  their  power  of  feeling,  but  their  power 
of  motion  remains.  If  the  anterior  root  of  such  a  nerve 
alone  be  divided,  then  the  parts  supplied  by  such  nerve  are 
paralysed  as  to  motion,  but,  nevertheless,  retain  their  sensi- 
bility— their  power  of  feeling.  If  the  spinal  cord  itself  be 
cut  or  broken  through,  it  is  impossible  for  a  man  thus  injured 
to  feel  any  irritation  which  may  be  applied  to  those  portions 
of  his  body  which  are  supplied  with  nerves  which  are  con- 
nected with  any  part  of  the  spinal  cord  below  the  point  of 
injury.  Neither  can  he  move  such  parts  by  any  act  of  his 
will,  try  as  he  may.  Nevertheless,  movements  of  those  very 
parts  may  be  produced  by  stimuli  applied  to  them,  of  which 
he  remains  entirely  unconscious,  or  which,  if  by  observation 
he  is  aware  that  they  are  applied,  he  has  none  the  less  no 
feeling  whatever,  nor  can  he  possibly  withdraw  any  such 
part  out  of  reach  of  the  stimulus  so  being  applied.  A  man 
so  injured,  though  he  may  have  entirely  lost  the  power  of 
feeling  any  pricks,  cuts,  or  burns  applied  to  such  parts,  will 
none  the  less  execute  movements,  often  in  an  exaggerated 
manner,  in  response  to  such  stimuli,  just  as  if  he  did  feel 
them.  He  will  withdraw  his  foot  if  it  be  tickled  just  as  if 
he  felt  the  tickling,  which  he  is  incapable  of  feeling.  Such 
unconscious  movement  in  response  to  stimuli  which  are  not 
felt  is  called  reflex  action,  for  the  following  reason  :  under 
ordinary  circumstances  stimulations  of  the  surface  of  the 
body  convey  an  influence  inwards  which  produces  sensation, 
and  gives  rise  to  an  outwardly  proceeding  influence  passing 
to  the  muscles,  and  resulting  in  definite  appropriate  motions. 

1  See  ante,  p.  113. 


122  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

The  influence  inwards  appears  to  travel  upwards  through 
the  spinal  cord  to  the  brain,  and  so  produces  feeling,  because 
the  brain  is  the  main  organ  of  sensation.  The  influence  out- 
wards appears  to  travel  downwards  from  the  brain,  which  is, 
ordinarily,  the  main  fundamental  agent  for  producing  mo- 
tion, and  onwards  down  the  spinal  cord,  and  thence  to  the 
muscles,  which  thus  move  in  response  to  a  surface  stimulus 
which  has  been  felt.  But  when  the  spinal  cord  has  been 
divided  it  becomes  no  longer  possible  for  such  influences  to 
ascend  to  the  brain  (and,  therefore,  there  can  be  no  feeling), 
or  to  descend  from  the  brain  (and,  therefore,  there  can 
be  no  voluntary  motion).  But  the  unfelt  influence  travel- 
ling inwards  is  supposed  in  that  case,  on  reaching  the 
spinal  cord,  to  be  thence  automatically  reflected  outwards. 
That  such  is  the  case  appears  to  be  shown  by  the  fact  that 
appropriate  movements  are  made  in  response,  but  made 
without  the  intervention  of  the  will.  Reflex  action  may 
also  take  place  when  the  body  is  quite  uninjured,  as  during 
sleep,  under  the  influence  of  chloroform,  etc. 

But  this  kind  of  action  is  much  more  strikingly  displayed 
in  some  of  the  lower  animals.  A  frog  which  has  had  its 
head  cut  off  will  yet  make  with  its  hind  legs  appropriate 
movements  to  remove  any  irritating  object  applied  to  the 
hinder  part  of  its  body.  If  its  skin  be  touched  with  some 
caustic  fluid,  one  leg  will  be  brought  forward  so  that  the 
foot  may  be  applied  to  the  irritated  spot ;  and  if  that  leg  be 
held,  then  the  other  leg  will  be  similarly  moved  forwards. 
A  more  striking  instance  of  the  same  power  can  be  obtained 
from  the  same  kind  of  animal  at  the  breeding  season.  The 
male  frog  has  the  habit  of  tightly  grasping  the  female,  and 
to  enable  him  the  more  securely  to  maintain  his  hold, 
a  warty  prominence  becomes  developed  on  the  inner  side  of 
each  of  his  fore-feet.  Now,  if  such  a  male  frog  be  taken, 
and  not  only  decapitated,  but  the  whole  hinder  part  of  the 


THE  PHYSICAL   ANTECEDENTS  OF  SCIENCE         123 

body  also  removed,  so  that  nothing  remains  but  the 
small  portion  of  its  trunk  from  which  the  two  arms,  with 
their  nerves,  proceed,  and  if,  under  these  circumstances, 
the  warty  prominences  be  touched,  the  two  arms  will 
then  fly  together  as  if  they  were  moved  by  a  spring, 
and  this  remarkable  and  complex  response  to  a  stimulus 
must  take  place  altogether  without  the  intervention  of 
sensation. 

But  in  all  these  instances  of  reflex  action,  the  stimulus 
applied  should  be  regarded  as  the  occasion,  not  the  cause, 
of  the  movements  in  question.  They  must,  it  seems  to  us, 
be  due  to  powers  and  energies  latent  in  the  organism,  which 
powers  the  stimulus  serves  to  make  manifest. 

Other  actions  may  take  place  in  us  which  resemble  reflex 
action  in  so  far  as  they  take  place  independently  of  the  will, 
and,  indeed,  in  spite  of  all  the  voluntary  efforts  we  can  make, 
while  yet  they  differ  from  reflex  action  because  they  occur 
as  consequences  of  sensations  distinctly  felt.  We  have 
already  seen  how  impossible  it  is  for  us  to  impede  our 
respiratory  actions  after  they  have  been  suspended  long 
enough  to  give  rise  to  peculiarly  distressing  feelings. 
Similarly,  if  an  object,  not  too  large,  be  placed  very  far 
back  in  the  mouth,  it  must  be  swallowed,  and  we  cannot 
help  it.  But  the  presence  of  the  object  is  all  the  time  dis- 
tinctly felt.  Such  actions  are  termed  ' '  sensori-motor  " 
actions,  to  distinguish  them  from  reflex  ones  in  which 
sensations  do  not  intervene. 

It  cannot  be  doubted  that  different  regions  of  the  brain 
are  specially  connected  with  our  experience  of  different 
sensations,  imaginations,  and  sense-perceptions,  and  it  is 
also  certain  that  different  parts  of  it  are  organs  for  originat- 
ing different  motions  and  combinations  of  movements.  But 
though  very  much  has  been  done  towards  determining  these 
connections,  a  vast  deal  more  remains  quite  uncertain,  and 


124  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

for  our  purpose  here,  such  localisations  are  indifferent,  and 
it  is  enough  to  note  the  fact  that  there  are  various  central 
regions  which  are  thus  connected  with  feelings  and  move- 
ments respectively. 

What  it  is  especially  desirable  that  the  reader  should  here 
carefully  note,  is  the  fact  that  nervous  activities  which  are 
accompanied  by  definite  corresponding  feelings,  shade  off, 
as  it  were,  into  activities  which  are  but  occasionally  felt, 
and  into  activities  which  are  in  no  way  felt,  nor  can  by  any 
possibility  be  felt. 

A  delicate  network  of  nerves  is  distributed  to  the  heart, 
arteries,  intestines,  liver,  kidneys,  etc.,  which  network  is 
generally  spoken  of  as  the  ' '  sympathetic  system. ' '  Usually 
the  influences  which  these  nerves  exercise  do  not  give  rise 
to  sensations,  but  under  some  abnormal  conditions  of  any 
of  these  internal  organs,  such  influences  may  be  felt  and  be 
accompanied  by  pain. 

Another  notable  fact  is  that  exposure  to  fresh  conditions, 
it  may  be  the  reception  of  injuries,  may  result  in  very  re- 
markable results,  which  cannot  have  been  brought  about 
without  the  help  of  that  great  co-ordinating  system  of  the 
body — the  nervous  system.  The  thickening  of  the  skin  of 
the  hand  constantly  employed  in  hard  work,  and  that  of  the 
muscles  of  the  blacksmith's  arm  or  the  dancer's  leg,  are  in- 
stances in  point ;  but  most  striking  of  all  are  the  processes 
of  repair  which  may  take  place  after  injury.  Very  complex 
structures,  appropriately  formed  and  nicely  adjusted  for  the 
performance  of  complex  functions,  may  be  so  developed. 
Thus  a  new  elbow-joint  has  been  known  to  be  produced 
in  a  railway  guard  who  was  compelled  to  have  his  own 
cut  out  as  a  consequence  of  an  injury  he  had  received. 
The  new  joint  served  his  purpose  exceedingly  well,  he 
having  soon  acquired  the  power  of  swinging  himself  by  it 
from  one  carriage  to  another,  while  a  train  was  in  motion, 


THE   PHYSICAL   ANTECEDENTS   OF  SCIENCE         12$ 

as  easily  and  securely  by  means  of  the  newly  formed  parts 
as  he  could  do  with  his  other,  uninjured  arm. 

Processes  of  repair  are  far  more  conspicuous  and  remark- 
able in  certain  lower  animals  than  they  are  in  man  and  the 
creatures  nearly  allied  to  him.  The  tails  of  lizards,  the  legs 
of  newts,  and  even  the  eye,  lower  jaw,  and  the  front  part  of 
the  head  of  similar  animals  can  be  reproduced  after  removal. 

Processes  of  repair  in  ourselves  take  place  in  perfect  un- 
consciousness, and  our  will  has  no  direct  control  over  them ; 
but  they  are  directed  to  a  useful  end,  and  are  carried  on  by 
vital  processes  which  are  practically  full  of  purpose  though 
their  end  is  altogether  unforeseen,  because  quite  unknown 
to  the  patient  who  benefits  by  them. 

These  facts  as  to  unconscious  but  appropriately  purposive 
processes  of  repair  naturally  lead  us  to  reflect  on  those 
wonderfully  appropriate,  and  seemingly  purposive  processes 
and  metamorphoses  whereby  the  embryo  is  developed,  and 
the  adult  condition  gradually  attained.  A  description  of 
such  processes  does  not  come  within  the  sphere  of  the 
present  work.  Indeed,  some  of  our  readers  may  wonder 
why  we  have  already  said  so  much  respecting  merely  vital 
processes  which  are  not  accompanied  by  sensation,  and  may, 
therefore,  well  seem  altogether  foreign  to  questions  of 
thought,  knowledge,  science,  and  its  groundwork. 

Nevertheless,  they  have  a  distinct  reference  thereto,  as 
will  almost  immediately  appear  when  we  come  to  speak  of 
instinctive  action.  But  before  entering  upon  that  function 
a  few  words  must  be  said  concerning  our  faculty  of  acquiring 
habits. 

The  power  of  forming  habits  has  a  certain  analogy  with 
reflex  action,  since  it  is  the  result  of  a  power  which  our 
organism  possesses  to  react,  within  limits,  when  it  is  acted 
on.  Let  us  consider  what  a  habit  is.  A  "  habit  "  is  not 
formed  by  repeating  an  action  a  great  number  of  times, 


126  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

though  it  may  be  much  confirmed  and  strengthened  thereby. 
If  an  act  performed  only  once  had  not  in  it  some  power  of 
generating  a  habit,  then  a  thousand  repetitions  of  that  act 
would  not  generate  it.  Habit  is  the  determination  in  one 
direction  of  a  previously  vague  tendency  to  action.  We 
possess  a  natural  inclination  to  activity.  Action  is  not 
only  natural  to  us,  it  is  a  positive  want.  Our  powers  and 
energies  also  tend  to  increase  with  exercise  and  action  (up 
to  a  certain  limit),  while  they  diminish  and  finally  perish 
through  a  too  long  repose.  Thus  a  power  of  generating 
"  habit  "  lies  hid  in  all,  and  in  the  very  first  of  those  actions 
which  facilitate  and  increase  the  general  activity  and  power 
of  our  body,  and  facilitate  and  increase  the  exercise  of  that 
power  in  definite  modes  and  directions. 

This  tendency  to  bodily  and  mental  activity,  which  under- 
lies our  acquisition  of  "  habits,"  is  closely  allied  to  that 
special  form  of  action  which  we  have  above  spoken  of  as 
"  instinctive  action."  Instinct,  as  a  feeling,  will  concern 
us  in  the  next  chapter,  but  its  physiological  and  physical 
aspects  must  be  noticed  here.  Instinctive  movements  differ 
from  reflex  actions  in  that  they  are  not  merely  responsive 
to  a  stimulus  felt,  but  respond  to  that  stimulus  in  such  a 
manner  as  to  serve  a  future  unforeseen  purpose.  Such  an 
action  is  that  of  the  infant,  which,  in  response  to  the  feeling 
produced  on  its  lips  by  contact  with  the  breast,  first  sucks 
the  nipple  and  then  swallows  the  thence  extracted  nutriment 
with  which  its  mouth  becomes  filled.  It  is  an  action  neces- 
sary for  the  nutrition  of  the  infant,  and  one  performed  very 
soon  after  birth,  when  there  has  been  no  lapse  of  time 
wherein  it  could  have  learned  to  perform  that  action.  It  is 
also  an  action  which  is  definite  and  precise,  and  one  per- 
formed in  a  similar  manner  by  all  infants,  though  it  is 
effected  by  a  very  complex  mechanism,  and  is  performed  at 
once,  prior  to  all  experience.  But  not  only  sucking  and 


THE  PHYSICAL   ANTECEDENTS   OF  SCIENCE         1 27 

deglutition,  but  also  the  movements  by  which  the  products 
of  excretion  are  removed  from  within  the  body  of  the  in- 
fant, are,  in  our  opinion,  essentially  instinctive.  In  later 
life  various  other  instinctive  actions  minister  directly  or  in- 
directly to  reproduction. 

It  is  an  instinct  which  prompts  the  female  child  to  seek 
adornments  for  her  little  body,  and  to  fondle  a  doll,  and 
even  press  it  against  her  breast,  whence,  when  fully  de- 
veloped, her  future  baby  will  draw  its  nourishment.  Later 
on,  when  the  time  for  love  and  courtship  has  arrived,  in- 
stinct leads  youths  and  maidens  to  seek  each  other's  society, 
and  tends  naturally  to  induce  affectionate  feelings  and  ul- 
timately caresses,  each  of  which  acts  as  a  further  stimulus, 
ultimately  leading  on  towards  actions  indispensable  to  the 
race. 

But  instinct,  as  it  exists  in  man,  is  very  feebly  and  ob- 
scurely developed,  compared  with  the  manifestations  of  that 
faculty  which  may  be  met  with  in  various  of  the  lower 
animals,  and  especially  amongst  insects.  Chickens  will, 
very  soon  after  they  are  hatched,  peck  at  small  objects, 
grains,  and  insects,  and  but  little  later  will  at  once  per- 
form, when  they  come  in  contact  with  water,  the  move- 
ments for  making  it  flow  over  their  backs  and  fall  off.1 

Some  birds  will  feign  lameness,  or  some  other  injury,  to 
draw  off  attention  from  their  eggs  or  young.  Birds  of  the 
first  year,  when  the  time  of  migration  arrives,  are  often  the 
earliest  to  depart,  and  duly  accomplish  their  journey,  though 
they  can  have  no  knowledge  of  the  route  they  have  to 
pursue,  or  the  region  it  is  the  object  of  their  journey  to 
attain. 

Snakes  taken  out  of  their  mother's  body  just  before  their 
natural  birth  will  even  then  threaten  to  strike,  and,  if  rattle- 

1  For  an  admirable  account  of  such  phenomena,  see  Habit  and  Instinct,  by 
C.  Lloyd  Morgan,  F.G.S. 


128  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

snakes,  to  rattle,  or  at  least  rapidly  vibrate  the  end  of  the 
tail. 

Ichneumon  flies  will  lay  their  eggs  within  the  bodies  of 
caterpillars,  that  they  may  find  abundant  suitable  food  when 
they  are  hatched,  but  we  cannot  believe  that  they  foresee 
the  purpose  and  practical  utility  of  their  action. 

A  kind  of  wasp,  called  "  sphex,"  provides  for  the  nutri- 
tion of  her  unhatched  young  in  an  analogous  but  yet  more 
remarkable  manner.  She  will  hunt  about  till  she  finds  a  suit- 
able caterpillar,  grasshopper,  or  spider,  which  she  adroitly 
stings  on  the  spot  which  induces,  or  on  the  several  spots 
which  induce,  complete  paralysis,  so  as  to  deprive  it  of  all 
power  of  motion,  but  not  to  kill  it,  as  to  kill  it  would  defeat 
her  purpose.  This  done,  she  stores  away  the  helpless  victim 
along  with  her  eggs,  in  order  that  when  her  eggs  are  hatched 
the  grubs  which  issue  from  them  may  find  living  animal  food 
ready  for  them  and  in  a  suitable  state  of  helplessness ;  for 
were  they  not  in  such  a  state,  the  grubs  would  be  utterly 
unable  to  catch,  retain,  and  prey  upon  them.  The  species 
of  sphex  which  preys  on  the  grasshopper  first  stings  it  and 
then  throws  it  on  its  back,  so  as  to  get  at  the  delicate  mem- 
brane which  unites  the  pieces  of  its  hard  armour  at  their 
joints.  This  it  bites  through  to  reach  a  specially  enlarged 
portion  of  nervous  tissue  there  concealed,  by  mutilating 
which  it  attains  its  practical  but  surely  unforeseen  end. 

But  if  the  adult  insect  cannot  reasonably  be  supposed  to 
understand  the  future  conditions  of  its  unborn  young  which 
it  will  never  see,  still  less  can  the  poor  grub  be  expected  to 
understand  what  will  be  the  future  conditions  of  its  own  life 
when  it  is  a  grub  no  longer — conditions  so  utterly  different 
from  those  of  which  it  has  had  any  experience.  Yet  many 
species  of  caterpillar  form  cocoons  in  modes  and  places  most 
suitable  for  their  protection  and  for  their  own  easy  emerg- 
ence when  they  have  changed  into  the  adult  form.  The 


THE   PHYSICAL   ANTECEDENTS  OF  SCIENCE         129 

caterpillars  of  a  moth  found  in  Africa  will  unite  their  efforts 
to  form  a  great,  as  it  were,  common  cocoon,  within  which 
external  envelope  each  caterpillar  makes  its  own  special 
cocoon,  but  which  are  so  skilfully  arranged  as  to  leave  pass- 
ages between  them  to  facilitate  their  departure  when,  as 
moths,  the  time  has  come  for  them  to  fly  away. 

The  caterpillar  of  the  emperor  moth  is  described  as  spin- 
ning for  itself  a  double  cocoon,  but  leaving  an  opening 
fortified  with  elastic  bristles  pointing  outwards,  and  so 
directed  that  while  they  readily  yield  to  pressure  from 
within,  they  firmly  resist  pressure  from  without.  Thus  the 
caterpillar  is  at  the  same  time  both  protected  from  intrusion 
from  outside,  and  enabled  easily  to  obtain  its  own  exit  when 
fully  developed. 

As  an  example  of  the  blindness  which  characterises  these 
instinctive  actions,  we  may  refer  to  a  kind  of  wasp  which 
does  not  enclose  living  food  with  her  eggs,  but  from  time  to 
time  feeds  the  grubs  which  thence  emerge  with  fresh  food, 
visiting  her  nest  for  that  purpose  at  suitable  intervals,  She 
covers  her  nest  so  carefully  with  sand  that  it  is  completely 
hidden,  and  this  covering  is  replaced  with  equal  care  after 
each  of  her  visits.  While  it  remains  thus  hidden  she,  it  is 
said,  can  always  find  it;  but  if  an  entrance  is  made  ready 
for  her,  this,  instead  of  helping  her  to  get  to  her  young, 
seems  to  puzzle  her  completely,  and  even  to  prevent  her 
from  recognising  her  own  offspring. 

But,  as  everyone  knows,  moths  and  butterflies  habitually 
lay  their  eggs  on  the  leaves  of  such  plants  as  will  form 
suitable  food  for  the  grubs  when  hatched,  although  the 
parents  themselves  neither  feed  on  such  leaves  nor  make  any 
other  use  of  them  than  that  of  serving  as  a  receptacle  for 
their  eggs.  It  may  be  that  the  parents  are  insects  which, 
in  the  adult  condition,  do  not  feed  at  all,  and  it  is  incredible 
that  they  foresee  the  use  to  their  unhatched  young  of  leaves 


I3O  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

useless  to  themselves,  and  the  past  utility  of  which  to  the 
grubs  they  once  were,  they  cannot  be  supposed  to  remember. 

Still  more  incredible  is  it,  however,  that  a  grub  should 
foresee  the  shape  of  the  body  it  is  destined  later  to  acquire, 
especially  when  this  shape  is  widely  different  in  the  two 
sexes.  Yet  the  grub  of  the  female  stag-beetle,  when  she 
digs  the  hole  wherein  she  will  undergo  her  metamorphosis, 
digs  it  no  bigger  than  her  own  body ;  whereas  the  grub  of 
the  male  stag-beetle  makes  a  hole  twice  as  large  as  his  own 
body,  in  order  to  leave  room  for  the  enormous  jaws  (the  so- 
called  "  horns  ")  which  he  will  have  to  grow. 

One  more  example  of  that  function  of  the  nervous  system 
which  results  in  instinct  must  here  suffice. 

There  is  a  kind  of  beetle,  called  "  sitaris,"  which  is  para- 
sitic on  certain  bees,  while  its  relation  to  those  insects  is 
very  different  during  the  very  different  stages  of  existence 
which  make  up  its  life-history. 

It  is  hatched  from  eggs  which  the  mother  sitaris  lays  in 
passages  in  the  bees'  nest.  Instead  of  being  in  the  form 
of  a  grub  (as  is  the  case  with  beetles  generally),  it  comes 
forth  from  the  egg  as  an  active,  six-legged  little  insect  with 
eyes  and  two  long  "  feelers,"  or  antennae.  In  the  spring, 
as  the  male  bees  (drones)  pass  out  for  their  nuptial  flight 
with  the  queen,  the  sitaris  attaches  itself  to  one  of  them, 
and  as  soon  as  the  opportunity  offers,  passes  from  it  to  the 
body  of  the  queen  bee.  When,  afterwards,  the  queen  bee 
lays  her  egg  in  the  hive,  the  sitaris  springs  upon  it,  and  is 
unsuspectingly  enclosed  in  a  cell  with  the  honey  destined  to 
nourish  the  bee-grub  when  the  queen's  egg  is  hatched. 
Thus  left  alone  with  the  egg,  the  sitaris  devours  it,  and 
then  undergoes  a  transformation  in  the  empty  egg-shell. 
Having  been  active  in  the  earliest  stage  of  its  life  it  assumes 
the  helpless  form  of  a  fleshy  grub,  which  floats  on  the  honey 
and  gradually  consumes  it.  Afterwards  it  transforms  itself 


THE  PHYSICAL   ANTECEDENTS  OF  SCIENCE         131 

once  more,  and  regaining  six  legs,  emerges  as  a  peaceful 
beetle,  and  so  with  its  egg  begins  again  the  cycle  of  this 
species'  strange  life-history. 

All  these  various  forms  of  instinctive  action  consist  of  move- 
ments which  take  place  in  response  to  feelings  which  have 
been  given  rise  to,  and  which  are  often,  in  part,  feelings  of 
antecedent  actions,  which  are  the  earlier,  or  the  earliest, 
stages  of  the  whole  instinctive  process.  An  interruption  of 
the  normal  course  of  procedure  will  sometimes  greatly  im- 
pair or  render  impossible  the  completion  of  the  entire  action 
— as  we  saw  in  the  case  of  the  wasp,  the  carefully  concealed 
entrance  to  whose  nest  was  laid  bare.  They  thus  have  a  cer- 
tain analogy  with  sensori-motor  action,1  which  only  differs 
from  reflex  action  because  of  the  intervention  of  sensation, 
and  so  might  be  called  a  sensuous-reflex  action  of  an  organ, 
or  system  of  organs,  which  so  react  on  felt  stimuli. 

But  in  both  insentient  and  sensuous-reflex  action  there  is 
a  spontaneous  response  to  a  stimulus,  and  a  response  which 
is  more  or  less  appropriate  at  the  time  of  its  occurrence, 
but  which  certainly  has  no  reference  to  future  events,  which 
are  to  occur  long  after  every  trace  of  the  stimulus  has 
disappeared. 

The  very  essence  of  instinct,  however,  is  that  it  provides 
for  a  more  or  less  distant  future,  often,  as  in  the  case  of 
various  instincts  of  insects  hereinbefore  noticed,  for  the 
wants  of  a  succeeding  generation,  which  will  never  be  known 
to  the  creature  that  performs  the  instinctive  actions  without 
which  the  new  generation  could  never  come  into  being. 
Instinct  is  essentially  telic  (i.  e.,  is  directed  to  a  definite 
end),  and  refers  to  circumstances  future  and  unforeseen  at 
the  time  the  instinctive  action  takes  place.  Moreover,  the 
actions  which  are  instinctive,  are  actions  not  of  this  or  that 
organ,  but  they  are  rather  the  reactions  of  the  whole  animal 

1  See  ante,  p.  123. 


132  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

in  response  to  its  environment.  But  though  we  cannot  ex- 
plain "  instinct  "  by  reflex  action,  insentient  or  sensuous, 
there  is,  as  we  have  said,  a  certain  analogy  and,  we  may 
add,  an  affinity  between  all  three.  Indeed,  all  animal  life 
is  reflex  in  the  widest  sense  of  that  term  ;  for  all  vital  actions 
result,  and  are  a  reaction,  from  stimuli  (internal  or  external), 
which  are  either  felt  or  not  felt.  The  effects  of  stimuli, 
moreover,  differ  according  to  what  it  is  they  stimulate.  The 
ultimate  particles  of  the  innermost  substance  of  man's  body, 
like  the  minute  particles  which  form  the  whole  body  of 
unicellular  animals,  react  upon  the  stimulus  of  a  certain  de- 
gree of  heat,  moisture,  or  chemical  action.  The  different 

tissues  ' '  which  compose  the  bodies  of  multicellular  animals 
and  of  our  own  body,  react  more  or  less  differently  under 
similar  circumstances,  as  the  science  of  the  physiology  of 
the  tissues  shows  us.  The  different  organs  and  systems  of 
organs  all  react  according  to  the  composition  of  each,  and 
the  study  of  their  reactions  is  physiology  as  ordinarily 
understood.  Similarly,  the  entire  body  of  a  living  creature 
reacts  as  one  whole  in  response  to  influences  brought  to  bear 
upon  it.  This  we  see  in  the  hibernation,  or  winter  sleep,  of 
bats  and  hedgehogs ;  in  the  effects  of  violent  emotions  of 
fear  and  anger,  and  in  the  results  of  sexual  and  reproductive 
influences  upon  the  whole  organism.  The  activities  and 
reactions  of  the  whole  body  of  an  animal — including  the 
process  of  its  individual  development — form  a  separate  de- 
partment of  the  study  of  animal  functions,  and  may  be 
called  "  the  physiology  of  organisms  considered  each  as  an 
entire  whole." 

Now  it  is  a  generally  admitted  principle  in  biology  that 
structure  and  function  vary  together,  and  the  various  actions 
of  the  several  organs  of  animals  depend  upon  the  properties 
of  the  parts  which  act.  So  also  the  activities  of  each  animal  as 
one  whole,  and  the  sum  of  the  actions  it  habitually  performs 


THE  PHYSICAL   ANTECEDENTS   OF  SCIENCE         133 

— its  habits  and  instincts — are  closely  related  to  its  struc- 
ture. They  may  thus  be  said  to  be  sensuous  reflex  actions 
not  of.  this  or  that  organ,  but  of  each  animal  as  a  whole,  and 
so  instinct  may  be  explained  as  a  form  of  reflex  action  in 
the  highest  and  widest  sense  of  that  term.  But  it  must  not 
be  forgotten  that  the  actions  which  instinct  prompts  are  not 
absolutely  invariable.  They  are  modifiable  to  a  certain  ex- 
tent by  circumstances,  through  such  powers  of  perception  as 
different  animals  may  possess.  The  absence  of  accustomed 
objects  and  the  presence  of  others  in  their  place,  may  lead 
birds  in  abnormal  conditions  to  build  their  nests  in  un- 
wonted ways.  Similarly,  many  creatures  may  be  led,  by  the 
pressure  of  adverse  circumstances,  to  seek  their  food  in  ways 
different  from  those  which  beings  of  their  species  usually 
employ.  In  this  we  seem  to  see  the  action  of  a  cognitive 
power  of  some  sort  co-operating  with  and  modifying  the 
promptings  of  instinct.  But  however  much  it  may  now  and 
again  be  modified,  it  is  clear  (from  the  facts  to  be  noted  as 
to  human  infancy,  the  earliest  stages  of  existence  in  in- 
dividual beasts  and  birds,  and,  above  all,  from  the  instinct- 
ive activities  of  insects)  that  there  are  courses  of  continuous 
action  to  which  animals  are  prompted  by  an  internal  spon- 
taneous impulse,  which  impulse  is  blind  as  to  the  beneficial 
consequences  of  the  actions  it  induces. 

Instinct,  then,  would  seem  to  be  a  special  internal  tend- 
ency to  perform  blindly  a  series  of  definite  and  useful  actions. 
It  cannot  be  insentient  reflex  action,  neither  can  it  be  what  we 
have  termed  the  sensuous  reflex  action  of  an  organ  or  system 
of  organs.  It  must  be  more  :  it  must  be  the  sensuous  reflex 
action  proper  to  an  individual  animal  as  one  whole,  or,  as 
we  have  before  said,  the  highest  and  most  complex  kind 
of  all  reflex  action,  "  the  reflex  action  of  the  individual." 

The  facts  and  considerations  brought  forward  in  the 
present  chapter,  not  only  show  us  that  various  material 


134  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

conditions  are  conditions  indispensable  for  science,  because 
they  are  conditions  indispensable  for  sensation,  but  also 
make  it  clear  what  admirable  results  may  proceed  from 
causes  seemingly  most  inadequate. 

The  different  "  tissues  "  of  our  body  are  so  combined  as 
to  form  efficient  "  organs,"  different  sets  of  which  are  com- 
bined into  systems — the  activities  of  the  tissues,  organs,  and 
systems  harmoniously  resulting  in  the  performance  of  those 
vital  functions  which  characterise  and  compose  the  life- 
history  of  each  kind  of  animal. 

The  various  vital  functions  of  the  body  take  place  in  the  in- 
timate recesses  of  our  frame  quite  unperceived,  and  in  a  man- 
ner in  no  way  directly  controllable,  by  us.  Yet  these  func- 
tions are  so  admirably  interrelated  that  their  common  result, 
under  normal  conditions,  is  continuous  and  prolonged  life. 

Similarly,  the  intimate  processes  of  repair  after  injury  can 
neither  be  perceived  nor  directly  controlled,  though  their 
outcome  is  the  practical  fulfilment  of  an  indisputably  desir- 
able end,  and  yet  more  is  this  evident  as  regards  the  pro- 
cesses of  embryonic  development.  In  pure  reflex  action  we 
have  a  clear  example  of  the  close  dependence  of  the  actions, 
and  even  the  practically  purposive  actions,  of  animals,  on 
the  structure  a#id  function  of  their  nervous  system  ;  while  in 
sensori-motor  action,  habit,  instinct  as  fixed,  and  instinct 
slightly  modifiable  by  cognition,  we  meet  with  a  gradual 
transition  from  actions  in  which  the  will  has  no  sway,  and 
which  need  not  be  even  matters  of  cognition,  to  acts  which 
are  results  of  a  cognitive  process,  and  are  more  or  less  vol- 
untary in  character. 

Instinct  is  a  result — a  practically  purposive  and  highly  in- 
telligent result — of  an  impulse  which  is  blind  and,  so  to 
speak,  mechanical.  But  we  shall  have,  in  the  next  chapter, 
to  revert  to  the  question  concerning  the  nature  of  instinct. 
So  we  think  no  more  need  be  said  here  upon  that  subject. 


THE  PHYSICAL  ANTECEDENTS  OF  SCIENCE         135 

More  remarkable  still  are  the  results  produced  by  means 
of  those  structures  we  term  "  organs  of  sense."  Were  we 
pure  intelligences  devoid  of  bodies  and  ignorant  of  the  char- 
acteristic psychical  endowments  of  animals,  there  is  nothing 
in  an  eye  which  could  lead  us  to  suppose  that  the  inverted 
picture  thrown  upon  the  backs  of  a  pair  of  them  could  enable 
their  possessor  to  see  real  external  objects,  and  to  see  them 
upright  and  single,  and  not  inverted  and  double,  as  they 
are  in  each  man's  pair  of  eyes.  Of  course,  the  mere  eyes 
could  not  see  apart  from  the  brain  or  apart  from  the  brain's 
rich  supply  of  duly  conditioned  blood,  etc.  Where  sight 
takes  place,  who  knows  ?  The  exact  nature  of  the  relation 
of  the  brain  and  its  parts  to  actual  visual  cognition,  who  can 
tell  ?  Moreover,  as  we  have  seen,  the  brain  is  double  as 
well  as  the  organ  of  sight.  But  the  practical  outcome  of  an 
organisation  so  incomprehensible  in  its  innermost  nature  is 
none  the  less  satisfactory.  That  the  perception  of  the  eyes 
is  valid,  and  the  cognitions  it  affords  are  true,  can  be  shown 
by  comparing  small  solid  objects  apprehended  by  our  sight 
with  the  same  objects  as  known  to  us  by  the  use  of  our 
hands.  Not  that  we  have  any  ground  for  considering  our 
physical  means  of  sight  less  perfect  than  any  other  possi- 
ble physical  means — any  organ  which  was  not  an  eye — for  ob- 
taining a  visual  knowledge  of  objectivity.  No  such  means, 
which  we  can  in  any  way  imagine,  could  appear  better 
adapted  or  less  mysterious,  because  every  psychical  result 
of  physical  antecedents  is  most  absolutely  mysterious.  But 
we  can  hence  obtain  at  least  one  practical  lesson  —  the 
lesson,  namely,  that  because  we  do  not  know  how  our  bodily 
organisation  enables  us  to  obtain  a  real  and  true  knowledge 
of  what  is  objective,  we  can  be  none  the  less  sure  that  it 
does  enable  us  to  obtain  valid  cognition  of  that  kind,  and 
one  about  which  we  are  certain. 

Similarly,  our  two  ears  enable  us  to  apprehend  the  exist- 


136  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

ence  of  single  external  bodies  possessing  energies  which 
translate  themselves  into  sensations  of  sound,  as  we  say,  in 
our  ears,  though,  for  all  we  can  determine,  "  in  our  brain  " 
might  be  an  expression  more  in  accordance  with  reality. 
For  our  purpose,  however,  such  distinctions  are  of  no  ac- 
count. What  is  of  account — what  relates  to  considerations 
which,  later  on,  will  concern  us  much — is  the  undeniable 
fact  that  true  and  valid  cognition  are  produced  by  means 
which,  save  for  familiar  experience,  we  should  not,  a  priori, 
regard  as  having  any  capacity,  or  being  at  all  likely,  to  pro- 
duce them. 

It  also  concerns  us  to  note  that  there  is  a  gradual  trans- 
ition in  each  of  us  from  vital  processes  performed  altogether 
beyond  the  terminations  of  the  nerves,  in  the  most  intimate 
parenchyma  of  the  body,  through  unfelt  nervous  activities 
and  nervous  activities  only  sometimes  felt,  on  to  acts  which 
are  distinctly  felt  and  voluntarily  performed.  Thus,  in 
addition  to  our  known  actions  and  those  corporeal  activi- 
ties which  are  only  occasionally  felt,  there  is  an  energy 
operating  throughout  the  body  by  the  intimate  activities  of 
which  its  vitality  is  ultimately  and  mainly  sustained,  and 
through  which  entirely  unfelt  responses  are  constantly  made 
to  received  impressions,  which  never  can  be  perceived,  and 
ever  remain  beyond  the  domain  of  consciousness. 

We  have  in  this  chapter  been  mainly  occupied  about  ques- 
tions of  structure,  together  with  the  vital  energies  such 
structures  subserve.  We  have  been  compelled  to  treat 
somewhat  of  feelings  and  cognitions,  as  forming  part  of  the 
energies  resulting  from  such  structures.  But  in  the  next 
chapter  the  psychical  energies  of  sensation,  imagination,  and 
sense-cognition  will  be  our  principal  object,  though  we  shall 
incidentally  revert,  now  and  again,  to  matters  of  structure 
and  organisation,  as  we  have  had  here  to  take  some  notice, 
by  anticipation,  of  facts  of  feeling  and  cognition. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  PSYCHICAL  ANTECEDENTS  OF  SCIENCE 

THE  time  has  now  come  to  leave  behind  us,  as  far  as  may 
be,  questions  of  mere  physics  and  physiology,  and  turn 
our  attention  to  what  concerns  the  declarations  of  our  own 
consciousness  with  respect  to  our  feelings  and  cognitions. 

Our  present  task,  then,  is  to  begin  that  process  of  intro- 
spection which,  in  the  first  chapter  of  this  work,1  we  declared 
to  be  indispensable,  and  though,  at  first,  somewhat  repug- 
nant to  beginners,  yet  soon  made  easy  by  a  little  patient 
perseverance. 

Psychical  facts  can  of  course  be  directly  known  to  us  only 
through  such  introspection — only  through  consciousness. 
On  this  account  consciousness  itself  must  be  somewhat 
considered  here,  although,  as  one  of  our  higher  psychical 
faculties,  its  special  place  is  in  our  next  chapter  but  one. 
Consciousness  is  one  of  those  things  which  can  neither  be 
defined  nor  made  known  by  description.  Any  being  who 
did  not  already  possess  it — if  we  can  conceive  of  a  being 
who  could  know  other  things  but  not  himself — could  never 
be  made  to  comprehend  it  by  any  description  or  definition 
whatever.  Consciousness  is,  for  each  of  us,  both  an  ulti- 
mate fact  and  an  ultimate  abstract  truth.  As  an  ultimate 
fact,  it  is  that  actual  concrete  knowledge  of  ourselves  in  the 
act  of  having  some  feeling  or  experience — a  knowledge,  the 

1  See  ante,  p.  5. 
137 


138  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

absolute  certainty  of  which  is  absolutely  unquestionable. 
It  is  a  fact  which,  being  ultimate,  is  necessarily  not  only 
undefinable  and  indescribable,  but  also  inexplicable.  We 
know,  as  a  fact,  that  we  are  conscious,  but  how  that  fact 
comes  about  we  know  no  more  than  we  know  the  "  how  " 
of  any  other  ultimate  "  that  " —  e.  g.,  "  how  "  it  is  that 
"extended"  bodies  are  extended,  or  "how"  it  is  that 
"  motion  "  is  a  possibility,  or  "  how  "  it  is  we  can  have  any 
knowledge  at  all. 

As  an  abstract  truth,  as  a  universal,1  consciousness  is  the 
ideal  perception  which  the  mind  gains  by  abstraction  from 
its  experience  of  concrete  conscious  states  of  its  own  being. 
Such  abstract  consciousness,  like  all  other  abstractions,  is,  of 
course,  only  an  idea,  and  has  no  real  existence  except  in  that 
actual  living  consciousness  of  an  individual  conscious  being, 
which  is  the  foundation  of  the  idea. 

Consciousness  constantly  attends  our  normal  waking  life, 
though,  of  course,  it  is  but  rarely  that  we  are  expressly  con- 
scious of  our  consciousness.  We  only  become  so  by  turning 
back  the  mind  and  saying,  "  Now  I  know  that  I  am  con- 
scious." That  is  reflex  consciousness.  But,  like  all  our 
other  ordinary  mental  acts,  it  is  accompanied  by  direct 
consciousness. 

Had  we  not  true  and  valid  knowledge  in  our  direct 
consciousness,  without  the  need  of  turning  back  the  mind 
and  reflecting  thereon,  we  could  never  have  any  knowledge 
at  all ;  for  we  should  have  to  go  through  a  regressus  ad 
infinitum  to  obtain  it  —  in  other  words,  we  never  could 
obtain  it. 

When  we  do  turn  back  the  mind  and  reflect  on  our  ex- 
perience, we  become  aware  (with  special  attention  to  the 
fact  as  a  fact)  expressly  of  what  we  may  be  doing,  as  when 
we  are  playing  golf,  or  engaged  in  any  other  amusement  or 

1  See  ante,  p.  6. 


THE  PSYCHICAL   ANTECEDENTS  OF  SCIENCE        139 

occupation  whatsoever.  Thus,  consciousness  seems  to  be 
normally,  in  its  very  essence,  continuous,  and,  while  exist- 
ing at  each  instant,  to  be  aware  (directly  or  reflexly)  of  its 
persistence — of  its  continuity.  We  each  of  us  know  and  are 
conscious,  not  only  that  we  are  actually  doing  whatever  we 
may  be  about  (as,  for  example,  the  reader  while  reading  this 
passage  is  aware  that  he  is  reading  it),  but  also  that  before 
we  began  to  read  it  we  were  doing  something  else.  But 
what  still  remains  to  be  said  about  consciousness  we  shall 
reserve  for  a  future  chapter.  Here  it  is  only  necessary  to 
recognise  the  facts:  (i)  that  we  know  and  are  conscious  of 
our  mental  states,  and  (2)  that  when  we  are  conscious  that 
we  have  a  thought  or  feeling,  it  is  absolutely  certain 
that  we  really  have  it ;  (3)  that  in  being  thus  conscious  of  our 
present  feeling,  we  both  know  it  as  a  feeling,  and  therefore 
something  so  far  objective  as  it  is  an  object  of  thought; 
and  (4)  also  that  this  feeling  is  something  we  are  actually 
feeling,  and  therefore  so  far  subjective.  In  this  act  of  per- 
ception, then,  subject  and  object  appear  to  be  identified ; 
but  this  will  be  further  considered  later  on.  What,  then, 
does  this  absolutely  trustworthy  and  infallible  witness  tell 
us  about  our  own  psychical  states  ?  Turning  our  mental 
eye  inwards,  and  considering  our  experiences  by  a  process 
of  introspection,  what  does  it  tell  us  concerning  the  question 
as  to  whether  any  mental  states  can  exist,  as  it  were,  beside 
consciousness — states,  the  past  existence  of  which,  conscious- 
ness can  by  some  means  become  fully  aware  of  as  having 
certainly  existed  ? 

It  is  unquestionable  that  our  consciousness  can  and  does 
inform  us  of  the  existence  of  very  different  kinds  of  psychi- 
cal experience.  Thus  it  tells  us  of  our  very  distinct  feelings 
of  colour,  sound,  smell,  taste,  and  touch;  or  sometimes  that 
we  have  feelings  of  exerting  force,  or  undergoing  pressure; 
also  that  we  have  feelings  which  are  simultaneous  and  others 


I4O  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

which  are  successive,  etc.  Besides  all  these  feelings  and 
others  allied  to  them,  our  consciousness  also  tells  us  that  we 
have  a  multitude  of  cognitions  of  very  different  kinds,  some 
of  which  are  direct  perceptions  of  external  objects,  others  of 
the  force  of  arguments,  or  of  the  evidence  of  axioms,  or  the 
truth  of  intellectual  principles.  Now  in  our  visual  percep- 
tion of  the  world  about  us,  our  consciousness  informs  us 
that  we  perceive  at  any  one  time  a  certain  small  portion  of 
our  field  of  vision  with  special  distinctness,  but  that  around 
this  portion,  receding  on  all  sides,  are  visual  perceptions 
which  become  more  and  more  indistinct  and,  as  it  were, 
"  out  of  focus."  Similarly,  in  our  musical  experience,  we 
hear  with  great  distinctness  a  series  of  sounds  as  they  suc- 
ceed each  other,  as  also  that  they  gradually  fade  as  they  re- 
cede from  the  present  into  the  past ;  while,  if  we  are  listening 
to  a  more  or  less  familiar  melody,  the  notes  which  are  about 
to  be  heard  become  anticipated,  so  that  past,  present,  and 
future  may  be  more  or  less  truly  present  to  the  mind  simul- 
taneously. Similarly,  once  more,  in  all  that  we  attend  to, 
there  is  always  some  part  of  what  our  mind  is  occupied 
about  which  is  apprehended  with  special  distinctness,  while 
other  matters  more  or  less  nearly  related  thereto  are  cognised 
with  various  inferior  degrees  of  clearness  of  perception. 

Whatever  might  be  the  case  in  this  respect  with  a  creature 
all  intellect,  and  independent  of  material  conditions,  such, 
it  would  seem,  must  be  the  case  with  beings  like  ourselves. 
It  must  be  so,  because  all  our  most  abstract  ideas  require  to 
be  attended  and  supported  by  mental  images  or  phantas- 
mata,  which  have  been  derived  from  the  actual  experiences 
our  senses  have  gained  from  material  things.  Since  also 
material  things,  and  therefore  our  imaginations  of  them, 
can  only  be  attended  to  with  the  greatest  keenness  piece- 
meal and  in  succession,  it  cannot  be  otherwise  with  the 
intellectual  considerations  they  minister  to  and  support. 


THE  PSYCHICAL   ANTECEDENTS   OF  SCIENCE        141 

The  recognition  of  these  facts  naturally  leads  us  to  the 
consideration  of  two  other  very  important  facts  to  which 
our  consciousness  gives  distinct  testimony.  These  are^i) 
that  past  experiences  will  often  rise  up  in  our  minds,  and  (2) 
that  experiences  yet  to  come  may  also  be  anticipated.  We 
have  both  powers  of  memory  and  of  anticipation.  Thus  it 
is  we  have  a  power  of  faintly  reviving  complex  groups  of 
past  sensations,  and  so  forming  mental  images,  or  imagina- 
tions, of  persons  we  have  known,  scenes  we  have  witnessed, 
etc. ;  and  we  have  also  the  power  not  only  of  thus  imagining 
the  past,  but  also  what  is,  or  may  be,  yet  to  come.  We 
thus  also  become  fully  aware  that  we  can  (as  pointed  out  in 
the  first  chapter)  apprehend  certain  degrees  of  likeness  and 
of  difference,  and  can  cognise  ' '  relations. ' ' l  We  can  also  be 
only  too  sure  we  have  sometimes  feelings  of  pain  as  well  as 
of  pleasure,  which  appear  to  us  external  in  origin,  as  well 
as  internal  pleasurable  and  painful  feelings  accompanied 
with  anticipations  or  recollections — feelings  which  we  dis- 
tinguish as  emotions  and  desires.  Yet  other  mental  states 
are  also  clearly  known  to  us  which  may,  or  may  not,  ac- 
company the  last-named  feelings — e.  g.,  states  which  we 
term  "  volitions." 

Thus  consciousness,  in  examining  the  mind  which  is  con- 
scious, perceives  its  perceptions,  feelings,  and  activities  with 
differences  of  intensity  and  of  other  qualities.  But  con- 
sciousness/ through  memory,  also  shows  us — as  will  shortly 
be  pointed  out — that  we  have  had  experiences  without 
advertence  and  vague  cognitions  of  presence,  absence,  and 
relations  of  various  kinds,  to  which  consciousness  at  the 
time  did  not  attend,  so  that  we  were  unconscious  of  parts 
of  our  mental  affections — not  that  we  were  not  conscious 
when  we  were  so  affected,  but  that  our  attention  was  other- 
wise occupied.  It  is,  of  course,  impossible  for  us  directly  to 

1  See  ante,  pp.  8  and  91. 


142  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

perceive  these  unconscious  psychical  processes,  because 
whatever  we  direct  our  mental  gaze  upon  becomes  thereby 
in  the  very  focus  of  consciousness.  Nevertheless,  by  the 
aid  of  memory  and  reasoning,  we  may  plainly  perceive  that 
we  have  passed  through  such  unconscious  psychical  states. 

It  is  very  desirable  that  we  should  endeavour  to  recognise 
and  distinctly  draw  out,  through  the  assurance  of  our  con- 
sciousness, that  we  must  have  had  certain  mental  modifi- 
cations which  we  did  not  advert  to  at  the  time  when  our 
senses  were  being  thus  acted  upon  and  were  receiving  such 
impressions. 

Before  proceeding  to  do  so,  however,  we  desire  to  recall 
to  the  reader's  mind,  yet  once  more,  our  representation  '  of 
the  distinction  which  exists  between  feelings  and  ideas,  as 
also  that  ideas  cannot  exist  for  us,  unless  ministered  to  and, 
as  it  were,  supported  by  mental  images,  that  is,  by  feelings 
of  the  imagination.  These  two  facts  may  help  us  to  under- 
stand how  it  is  that,  although  we  have  no  ground  to  regard 
our  mind  as  other  than  a  perfect  unity,  it  yet  has  two  orders 
of  mental  powers.  There  are  two  kinds  of  mental  activity : 
(i)  those  allied  to  the  sensations  which  are  the  means  of 
perception,  but  which  consciousness  does  not  advert  to  when 
it  perceives  an  object;  (2)  those  allied  to  the  intellectual 
perceptions  to  which  such  sensations  and  imaginations  min- 
ister. A  great  number  of  mental  facts — mental  processes — 
may  be  grouped  around  each  of  these  two  kinds 'of  mental 
affection.  Those  which  are  allied  to  feelings  and  imagina- 
tions constitute  our  lower  mental  faculties ;  while  those  allied 
to  our  intellectual  perceptions  are  our  higher  ones.  No  one, 
probably,  will  question  that  a  process  of  conscious  reasoning 
and  a  perception  of  the  truth  of  an  axiom  are  higher  mental 
processes  than  mere  feelings  of  colour,  warmth,  or  sweetness. 

This  distinction   between  our  higher  and  lower  mental 

1  See  ante,  pp.  10-13. 


THE  PSYCHICAL   ANTECEDENTS  OF  SCIENCE        143 

powers,  though  it  has  been  so  long  and  so  generally  neglected, 
we  believe  to  be  one  of  the  most  profound  and  important 
truths  in  psychology,  and  one  the  recognition  of  which  is 
absolutely  necessary  for  everyone  who  would  attain  to  a 
sound  and  reasonable  philosophy. 

But  as  we  are  intellectual  and  conscious  beings,  we  should 
expect  that  every  lower  mental  process  would,  in  us,  be 
more  or  less  modified  by  our  higher  nature,  through  the 
existence  of  which  alone  we  can  (through  reflection)  ever 
become  aware  of  the  existence  of  any  such  lower  mental 
process.  As  to  animals,  we  can  have  no  psychical  experi- 
ence of  any  creature's  mind  but  our  own.  Nevertheless, 
observation,  experiment,  and  inference,  in  combination, 
may  suffice  to  give  us  a  trustworthy  assurance  that  faculties 
like  our  lower  psychical  powers  exist  in  them,  and  that  they 
are,  or  are  not,  sufficient  to  account  for  all  their  actions,  how- 
ever rational  such  actions  may,  at  first  sight,  appear  to  be. 

As  a  familiar  illustration  of  this  distinction  to  which  we  re- 
fer as  existing  in  ourselves,  may  be  mentioned  a  circumstance 
which  has,  perhaps,  happened  to  many  of  our  readers  as  it 
has  repeatedly  happened  to  ourselves.  In  walking  along  a 
street  with  consciousness  absorbed  by  some  train  of  thought, 
it  may  suddenly  strike  us.  that  we  had  passed  a  house  over 
the  shop-window  of  which  there  was  a  remarkable,  or  a 
familiar,  name,  and  then,  turning  back,  find  that  our  sus- 
picion was  justified.  We  may  thus  see  that  we  had  ex- 
perienced sensations,  grouped  together  into  a  mental  image, 
but  which,  so  far  as  we  can  perceive,  never  rose  into  con- 
sciousness. Again,  we  may  set  out  to  visit  a  friend  at  a 
residence  well  known  to  us,  and  our  consciousness,  absorbed 
as  in  the  former  case,  may  not  serve  to  make  us  recognise 
the  familiar  spot  we  were  seeking,  and  we  may  only  be  awak- 
ened to  the  fact  that  we  have  passed  it  by,  through  a  check 
to  our  career  given  by  some  passing  vehicle.  But  while  we 


144  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

have  thus  been  walking  in  reverie,  our  senses,  though  not 
our  intellect,  have  been  awake  to  all  the  conditions  which 
were  necessary  to  enable  us  to  walk  without  accident  through 
peopled  streets,  with  repeated  steppings  down  and  up  kerb- 
stones, and  other  similar  movements.  Each  turning,  each 
crossing,  may  have  been  accurately  effected,  and  though  we 
had  no  consciousness  of  the  several  objects  which  passed 
before  our  eyes,  yet  we  must  have  felt  them  and  had  an  un- 
conscious sensuous  cognition  of  them,  or  they  never  could 
have  served  to  guide  us  safely  along  our  path. 

Once  more,  let  us  suppose  the  case  of  a  young  lady  play- 
ing with  perfect  facility  on  the  piano  a  difficult  but  well- 
practised  piece  of  music.  While  she  is  playing  it,  she  talks 
to  a  gentleman  she  thinks  likely  to  "  propose  "  to  her. 

Her  consciousness  is  absorbed  in  attending  to  his  words, 
his  tone,  and  manner,  with  mental  side-glances  as  to  fortune, 
temper,  and  other  matters.  Yet  she  need  never  stumble  in 
her  performance,  or  fail  in  exactitude  as  to  the  force  of 
stroke  or  prolongation  of  pressure  to  be  applied  to  the  dif- 
ferent keys ;  indeed,  were  she  to  direct  her  attention  thereto, 
the  perfection  of  her  execution  might  be  thereby  impaired — 
just  as  (once  more)  running  up  and  down  stairs  may  be  im- 
peded by  the  express  direction  of  attention  to  the  movements 
necessary  to  effect  it.  Most  persons  who  can  play  melodies 
on  the  ,piano  "  by  heart,"  know  how,  when  they  fail  in  any 
familiar  passage,  the  worst  thing  they  can  do  is  to  think 
what  the  order  of  the  forgotten  series  of  notes  should  be, 
and  that  their  best  course  is  to  turn  their  mind  away  to 
something  else  while  they  try  to  play  it  unconsciously  and 
automatically.  In  other  words,  the  melody  is  recalled  by 
avoiding  the  use  of  the  intellect  and  trusting  to  the  sensuous 
association  which  has  been  formed  between  successive  notes, 
and  which  has  become,  as  it  were,  embodied  in  the  nerves 
and  muscles  of  the  pianist. 


THE  PSYCHICAL   ANTECEDENTS   OF  SCIENCE        145 

And  here  it  seems  desirable  to  point  out  the  differences 
which  exist  between  our  higher  and  our  lower  mental  facul- 
ties as  regards  "  memory." 

Memory  is  sometimes  said  to  be  a  faculty  which  revives 
past  feelings  and  ideas.  But  any  number  of  feelings  or  ideas 
which  might  be  revived  and  so  once  more  felt  or  thought, 
would  not  constitute  true  memory  unless  they  were  recog- 
nised as  having  existed  before,  and  as  relating  to  the  past. 
Nevertheless,  reason  shows  us  that  our  being  must  somehow 
have  powers  through  which  past  feelings  and  imaginations 
can  be  retained  and  revived  without  their  appearance  in 
consciousness. 

Now  two  feelings,  which  have  been  experienced  by  us 
successively  or  simultaneously,  may  be  so  closely  associated 
that  on  the  recurrence  of  one,  the  other  may  recur  also.  It 
is  natural  to  us  thus  to  associate  feelings  and  imaginations 
which  have  been  frequently  experienced  together.  Thus 
groups,  and  groups  of  groups,  of  such  mental  states  may 
become  associated  and  will  recur  as  just  stated,  and  this  may 
take  place  anterior  to,  or  without  any  intellectual  advertence 
to  the  ideas  such  associated  feelings  may  occasion  and  serve 
to  support.  Thus  the  sound  of  a  dinner-bell,  or  the  sight 
of  an  expanded  umbrella,  may  instantly  arouse  in  our  minds 
associated  mental  images  of  food  or  of  rain.  It  is  not  only 
that  we  know,  by  an  intellectual  cognition,  that  the  bell  is  a 
call  to  dinner,  or  that  the  umbrella  has  been  opened  on  ac- 
count of  rain.  These  cognitions  of  the  intellect  we  may,  of 
course,  have,  but  the  associated  mental  images  may  be  called 
up  before  them  and  persist,  sometimes  to  our  annoyance, 
after  them;  the  notes  of  a  melody  familiar  in  times  long 
past  may  arouse  vivid  mental  images  and  keen  emotions  re- 
lating to  the  days  of  our  youth,  and  even  a  mere  perfume 
will  sometimes  have  a  similar  effect.  How  true  it  is  that 
these  lower  mental  states  can  exist  apart  from  intellectual 


146  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

cognition  is  proved  by  the  fact  that  even  idiots  may  some- 
times have  their  emotions  similarly  aroused. 

Such  revivals  of  past  feelings,  unrecognised  as  such,  can- 
not, as  before  said,  be  properly  called  memory,  but,  except 
for  not  being  recognised,  they  closely  resemble  it,  and  may 
therefore  be  distinguished  as  examples  of  what  may  be 
termed  "  sensuous  memory,"  or  the  memory  of  the  imagina- 
tion. It  is  this  lower  power  which  lies  at  the  base  of  our 
true  intellectual  powers  of  memory  and  reminiscence,  and  it 
is  by  its  aid,  as  we  believe,  that  we  are  able  to  carry  on 
during  those  unconscious  states  of  reverie  and  "  absent- 
mindedness  "  the  actions  we  have  above  noted.  It  is  by 
associated  groups,  and  groups  of  groups,  of  feelings  and 
imaginations,  that  we  are  enabled  so  practically  to  cognise 
objects  in  a  merely  sensuous  way  that  such  complex  actions 
can  be  performed  without  intellectual  advertence. 

In  our  next  chapter  we  shall  inquire  whether  animals,  by 
the  use  of  faculties  analogous  to  our  lower  mental  powers 
only,  may  not  be  enabled  to  do  a  variety  of  seemingly 
rational  actions  without  consciousness,  and  therefore  without 
knowing  that  they  do  them.  We,  being  intellectual  creat- 
ures, cannot  (as  before  observed)  know  that  we  have  these 
lower  faculties  save  by  the  intervention  of  the  higher — save 
by  introspection,  the  interrogation  of  consciousness,  and 
a  consciousness  of  at  least  much  of  our  environment.  But 
we  can,  through  observation  and  memory,  be  sure  that  we 
must  occasionally  have  cognised  objects  with  merely  sensu- 
ous cognition  and  without  consciousness.  And  since  we  can 
always  argue  that  what  has  actually  happened  must  be  at 
least  a  possible  thing,  we  may  also  be  sure  that  merely 
sensuous  cognition  is  possible,  since  we  must  really  have 
had  it.  Without  such  cognitions  the  actions  above  noted 
as  taking  place  during  reverie  and  absence  of  mind  could 
never  be  performed. 


THE   PSYCHICAL   ANTECEDENTS  OF  SCIENCE        147 

And  the  facts  we  noted  in  our  last  chapter  ought  to  make 
the  occurrence  of  such  merely  sensuous  actions  easy  of  com- 
prehension, because  they  have  much  resemblance  to  those 
acts  of  sensuous  reflex  action  and  those  instinctive  actions 
which  were  therein  described. 

But  since  such  complex  instinctive  actions,  and  actions 
resulting  from  sensuous  cognition,  are  the  action  of  the  body 
as  a  whole,  and  as  the  sensations  which  give  rise  to  such 
sensuous  cognitions  are  often  feelings  produced  by  very 
different  sense  organs — by  sights  and  sounds,  feelings  of 
touch,  pressure,  etc. — they  must  clearly  be  referred  to,  and 
receive  responses  from,  some  common  sensorium. 

Now  in  the  cases  referred  to,  consciousness  is  not  called 
into  play,  but  is  otherwise  occupied,  and  in  consequence  we 
require  a  term  to  denote  such  a  faculty  and  sensorium  in 
ourselves  and  in  animals,  at  least  in  such  as  all  would  agree 
have  not  intellectual  consciousness.  It  has  then  been  sug- 
gested to  denote  that  lower  psychical  faculty,  that  meeting 
together  of  sensuous  impulses  of  the  most  diverse  kinds,  by 
the  term  Consentience. 

Sometimes,  as  both  in  reverie  and  a  state  of  absorbed 
attention  to  some  object,  our  minds  are  in  a  condition  in 
which  all  the  direct  consciousness  of  our  being  seems  to  be 
suspended,  and  we  have  but  a  vague  feeling  of  our  existence 
— a  feeling  resulting  from  the  unobserved  synthesis  of  all 
the  various  sensations  and  impressions  we  may  then  be 
subject  to.  Such  a  blending  of  feelings  is  a  form  of  con- 
sentience,  and  it  is  by  this  faculty  that  the  unconscious 
sleep-walker  receives  and  accurately  responds  to  the  varied 
impressions  which  surrounding  objects  make  on  his  organs, 
and  by  it  also  the  idiot  makes  such  responses,  as  he  may  be 
able  to  make,  to  similar  impressions.  It  is  to  consentience 
again  that  the  ability  to  perform  many  instinctive  actions  is 
due. 


148  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

In  many  of  our  rational  actions,  which  consciousness 
knows  and  can  analyse,  we  can  by  attention  detect  the 
merely  sensuous  elements  of  our  cognitions.  These  ele- 
ments might  be  expected  to  be  capable  of  producing  in 
lower  natures — in  mere  animals — acts  apparently  intelligent, 
but  which  are  not  really  so. 

Thus  we  may  recognise  the  presence  of  feelings  of  self- 
activity  or  passivity  accompanying  our  perceptions  of  those 
states.  When  we  draw  our  hand  over  a  foreign  body  or 
grasp  it,  we  may  detect  one  such  feeling  underlying  our 
perceptions,  and  both  at  once,  when  rubbing  the  hands 
together  or  when  struggling  against  a  violent  wind. 

Similarly,  a  variety  of  sensations,  real  and  imagined, 
underlie  our  perceptions  of  succession,  extension,  position, 
shape,  size,  number,  and  motion,  and  can,  with  a  little 
care,  be  easily  detected  and  discriminated.  Thus  as  we  feel 
the  series  of  sensations  of  contact  when  the  links  of  a  chain 
are  drawn  across  the  hand,  we  have  feelings  corresponding 
with  succession  and  motion.  When  handling  a  solid  cube 
we  have  feelings  related  to  extension,  shape,  size.  Again, 
in  a  multitude  of  actions — for  example,  in  climbing  up  a 
bank — we  have  feelings  relating  to  "  relative  position,"  and 
we  may  also  acquire  such  by  merely  drawing  our  hand  from 
the  ankle  upwards  to  the  thigh.  Of  course,  we  have  no 
feeling  of  succession  itself  or  of  the  other  abstract  ideas 
above  mentioned,  but  we  have  feelings  which  specially  cor- 
respond with  all  of  those  ideas  just  referred  to.  Such 
feelings  as  serve  to  guide  the  footsteps  of  the  unconscious 
sleep-walker,  might  well  be  sufficient  to  direct  the  move- 
ments of  any  creatures  which  were  richly  endowed  with 
feeling,  but  denied  the  power  of  intellect. 

Similarly,  we  have  feelings  closely  connected  with  percep- 
tions of  agreement  or  disagreement,  and  others  which  ac- 
company surprise  or  doubt.  Let  us  suppose  that  we  grasp 


THE  PSYCHICAL  ANTECEDENTS  OF  SCIENCE        149 

an  artificial  orange  so  made  as  not  only  to  look,  but  also  to 
feel,  like  a  real  orange,  and  that  we  cut  it,  and  to  our  surprise 
find  its  interior  to  be  very  different  from  what  we  expected 
it  to  be.  Thereupon  we  have,  of  course,  our  intellectual 
perception  of  the  fact,  but  we  also  have  a  certain  feeling  of 
"  shock,"  which  accompanies  our  surprise  at  making  the 
discovery.  Similarly,  if  the  nature  of  an  object  seems  to 
us  doubtful,  we  have  a  feeling  of  "  suspended  action  "  ac- 
companying our  state  of  intellectual  doubt.  If  the  object 
turns  out  to  be  what  we  supposed,  as  we  discover  it  we  have 
a  simultaneous  feeling  of  "  smooth  and  easy  transition  " 
along  with  our  perception  that  our  anticipation  has  been 
fulfilled.  If  it  should  turn  out  otherwise,  then,  as  we  per- 
ceive the  disagreement,  we  have  a  feeling  somewhat  like 
that  which  we  get  from  a  suddenly  arrested  motion. 

Thus  by  the  occurrence  of  different  sensations  and  differ- 
ent combinations  with  imaginations — by  the  association  of 
sensations,  imaginations,  feelings  of  pain  or  pleasure  with 
those  of  activity,  passivity,  succession,  extension,  figure, 
magnitude,  unity,  multiplicity,  motion,  and  rest — we  come 
to  have  most  varied  complex  groups  of  feelings  correspond- 
ing with  states  of  the  world  about  us  and  of  ourselves. 
These  groups  of  groups  of  feelings  underlie  and  accompany 
our  intellectual  perceptions,  on  which  account  they  may  be 
termed  "  sensuous-cognitions,"  or  "  sense-perceptions," 
since  they  may  produce  practical  results  resembling  those  of 
intellectual  cognitions  and  perceptions  in  any  creature 
capable  of  feeling  them,  but  devoid  of  consciousness. 

If  we  reflect  on  these  sensuous  cognitions  with  the  asso- 
ciations which  may  be  established  between  feelings,  as  evi- 
denced by  the  effects  of  merely  sensuous  memory,  we  shall 
see  that  merely  sensuous  mental  states  may  bear  a  notable 
resemblance,  practically,  to  true  inference. 

When  different  groups  of  feelings  have  become  intimately 


150  THE   GROUNDWORK   OF  SCIENCE 

associated,  then,  on  the  occurrence  of  one  group,  an  imagin- 
ation of  the  other  group  will  arise  in  the  mind,  and  we 
have  an  "  expectant  feeling  "  of  their  proximate  actual  re- 
currence— as  we  may  have  an  expectant  feeling  of  orange 
pulp  when  cutting  the  artificial  orange. 

This  expectant  imagination  of  feelings  yet  to  come,  has  a 
decided  analogy  with  reasoning  and  inference,  although 
quite  distinct  and  unlike  them  essentially.  Very  noticeable 
also  is  that  feeling  of  wondering  expectancy  which  will  arise 
when  some  strange  sound  is  heard,  or  some  startling  move- 
ment seen,  followed  by  a  feeling  of  complacency  when  an 
innocent  cause  of  either  comes  in  view. 

Such  feelings  are  the  sensuous  accompaniments  of  an  in- 
tellectual search  for  a  cause  followed  by  its  satisfactory 
detection. 

Strong  feelings,  and  especially  strong  emotions,  tend  to 
manifest  themselves  externally,  not  only  without  our  know- 
ledge and  intention,  but  against  our  utmost  efforts,  when  we 
become  conscious  of  such  manifestations.  Thus  terror  and 
anger  show  themselves  by  external  signs,  which  express 
feelings,  not  ideas,  and  so  may  be  said  to  constitute  a  "  lan- 
guage of  emotion." 

Such  unintellectual  language  manifests  itself,  as  we  have 
just  said,  "  by  external  signs."  This  is  quite  true  in  one 
sense,  yet,  without  further  explanation,  the  assertion  may 
be  misleading,  as  the  word  "  sign"  is  used  in  two  very 
different  meanings. 

A  "  sign,"  in  the  full  sense  of  that  term,  is  a  token  or  de- 
vice addressed  to  eye  or  ear,  depicting  by  some  external 
manifestation  an  internal,  abstract  idea,  and  made  use  of 
with  the  intention  of  conveying  to  another  mind  the  idea  or 
ideas  in  the  mind  of  the  sign-maker. 

Yet  a  sign  may  be  truly  such,  though  quite  in  another 
way.  Thus  the  external  contortion  of  the  features  in  terror, 


THE   PSYCHICAL   ANTECEDENTS  OF  SCIENCE        151 

or  screams  or  verbal  exclamations,  are  truly  signs  to  onlook- 
ers of  the  feeling  of  the  terror-stricken  person.  But  as  the 
latter  has  not  contorted  his  features  or  uttered  sounds  with 
the  intention  of  making  his  terror  known,  it  can  be  nothing 
but  an  accidental  sign. 

Yet,  again,  a  sign  may  be  made  with  the  object  of  attract- 
ing attention  so  far  as  to  gain  sympathy  or  make  known  a 
sympathy  felt.  Such  signs  may  be  an  uplifting  of  the  eyes 
with  the  hands  clasped,  or  a  hand  may  be  smilingly  kissed, 
or  articulate  words  of  tender  endearment  may  be  uttered,  or 
curses  may  be  shouted  with  clenched  fists,  the  words  in 
neither  case  having  any  further  meaning  than  an  indication 
of  the  feelings  contained.  Such  signs,  of  course,  are  not 
those  of  the  first  category,  but  only  emotional  signs. 

We  have  before  noticed  the  remarkable  way  in  which 
movements  may  be  spontaneously  and  unconsciously  co- 
ordinated.1 Such  movements  are  due  to  feelings  which  have 
also  unconsciously  become  associated.  The  actions  per- 
formed apart  from  intellectual  advertence  show  the  power 
we  have  of  co-ordinating  sensations  as,  e.  g.,  in  playing 
the  piano  "  by  heart."  Then  the  motions  of  the  hands 
and  fingers  follow  each  other  in  orderly  succession,  which  is 
manifestly  due  to  co-ordinated  sensations  of  touch  and  hear- 
ing— felt  touches  of  the  keys,  and  heard  sounds  of  the 
strings.  Let  only  one  note  have  become  dumb,  or  one  of 
the  keys  struck  fail  to  rise,  and  the  whole  automatic  action 
may  come  to  an  end  through  a  failure  of  co-ordination  in 
the  associated  sensations. 

But  our  power  of  unconsciously  synthesising  our  move- 
ments into  one  complex  general  action — as  in  the  stone- 
throwing  before  described 2 — runs  parallel  with  another 
remarkable  power  we  have  of  unconsciously  synthesising 

various  pleasurable  tendencies  into  one  dominant  impulse. 

• 

1  See  ante,  p.  117.  *  See  ante,  pp.  117,  118. 


152  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

This  power  is  singularly  analogous  to,  though  toto  ccelo  dif- 
ferent from,  volition.  That  we  have  such  a  power  is  mani- 
fest from  the  actions  of  persons  when  walking  in  their  sleep, 
or  during  a  state  of  reverie,  and  also  from  the  actions  of 
some  idiots.  Another  sensuous  power  we  possess,  and 
which  we  may  term  "  sensuous  attention,"  is  one  that 
simulates  the  intellectual  and  voluntary  act  we  know  as 
paying  attention  to,  deliberately  observing,  anything. 

Thus  persons  who  walk  in  their  sleep  have  been  observed, 
when  missing  some  object  from  its  wonted  place,  to  begin 
to  look  or  feel  for  it.  We  may  also  observe  in  ourselves, 
when  startled  by  some  new  and  disturbing  object,  how  our 
senses  automatically  direct  themselves  to  it  without  waiting 
for  the  bidding  of  our  conscious  will. 

But  the  complex  association  and  co-ordination  of  a  group, 
or  groups,  of  feelings  (sensations  and  mental  images),  with 
resulting  co-ordination  of  groups  of  movements,  may  have 
a  yet  more  remarkable  result.  They  may  result  in  the 
spontaneous,  unconscious,  and  automatic  employment  of 
what  are,  practically,  "  means  to  an  end,"  quite  apart  from 
any  intellectual  recognition  of  either  means  or  end  as  such. 
This  result  is  sometimes  strikingly  manifested  by  somnambul- 
ists, Who  have  been  known  to  perform  very  complicated  ac- 
tions. Under  such  circumstances,  a  drawer  may  be  opened 
or  a  door  unlocked  in  an  unconscious  search  to  obtain  some 
object  or  reach  some  locality.  Such  actions  are  easily 
explicable  in  the  way  above  stated.  For  the  consentience 
of  the  sleep-walker  is  impressed  by  various  groups  of  sensa- 
tions, such  as  those  produced  by  the  walls  and  furniture  of 
the  room  the  sleep-walker  may  be  traversing  on  the  way  to 
the  desired  locality,  the  door  of  which  is  locked.  The  feel- 
ings thus  excited  arouse  his  imagination  of  the  inside  of  the 
place  sought,  this  in  turn  excites  the  nervous  channels 
habitually  stimulated  in  overcoming  the  intervening  obstruc- 


THE  PSYCHICAL  ANTECEDENTS  OF  SCIENCE        153 

tion — the  hand  automatically  seeks  the  key;  the  feelings 
produced  by  its  touch  stimulate  the  muscles  of  the  arm  ; 
the  key  is  turned,  and  the  door  opened.  Very  complex 
movements  are  sometimes  thus  automatically  performed  in 
order  to  complete  a  sensuous  harmony  which  the  imagina- 
tion, through  habit,  has  come  to  crave.  It  craves  for  fresh, 
completing  sensations,  and  is  thus  led  to  perform  appro- 
priate movements  when  certain  initial  sensations  have 
been  afresh  excited,  after  which  the  completing  sensations 
have  (in  past  experience)  habitually  followed.  This,  then, 
is  the  "  practical  imagination  of  means  to  effect  a  desired 
end." 

Such  sensuous  acts  are  what  we  should  expect  to  find 
amongst  animals  if  they  are,  as  they  have  generally  been 
supposed  to  be,  creatures  richly  endowed  with  sensitive 
faculties,  though  devoid  of  those  which  are  intellectual. 

But  what  judgment  are  we  to  form  with  respect  to  the 
highest  psychical  faculties  of  animals  ?  That  is  the  next 
question  to  which  we  must  now  address  ourselves.  The  ques- 
tion, however,  is  not,  of  course,  to  be  pursued  for  its  own 
sake  in  a  work  such  as  this,  but  for  the  sake  of  its  indirect 
bearing  on  Epistemology. 

Many  persons  who  have  accepted  the  Darwinian  hypo- 
thesis as  to  evolution  are  inclined  to  distrust  their  own  reason, 
as  being  but  the  intelligence  of  a  more  highly  developed 
ape.  If,  therefore,  the  study  of  animal  intelligence  should 
convince  our  readers  that  there  is  a  difference  of  kind  be- 
tween the  psychical  nature  of  man  and  that  of  animals,  such 
reason  for  distrust  must  disappear.  But,  on  the  other  hand, 
should  we  become  convinced  that  there  is  no  difference  of 
kind,  the  distrust  referred  to  need  not  thereby  be  strength- 
ened. For  animals  would  then  be  seen  to  be  of  a  much  higher 
nature  than  has  been  usually  supposed,  since  (as  we  shall 
see)  there  can  be  no  doubt  as  to  our  own  rationality.  If 


1 54  THE  GRO  UND  WORK  OF  SCIENCE 

animals  are  also  rational,  though  but  potentially  so,  we  may 
suppose  that  their  environment  and  some  incompleteness  of 
internal  development  has  prevented  them  from  hitherto 
manifesting  their  latent  rationality.  It  must  have  remained 
hidden,  as  that  of  the  human  infant  is  concealed  by  the  co- 
existence of  internal  and  external  conditions,  which  make 
its  external  manifestation  impossible.  There  would,  there- 
fore, be  no  more  reason  to  distrust  the  dictates  of  human 
reason,  because  developed  from  that  of  an  unconscious 
animal,  than  because  developed  (as  that  of  all  men  has  been) 
from  that  of  an  unconscious  infant. 

We  can,  therefore,  address  ourselves  czquo  animo  to  the 
question  of  animal  intelligence  and  study  it  with  the  most 
complete  impartiality,  since  the  absolute  value  of  the 
dictates  of  our  own  intelligence  cannot  be  affected  thereby. 
Nevertheless,  the  question  is  most  interesting,  as  bearing 
on  the  problem  of  nature's  continuity,  and  as  being  one  to 
which  many  excellent  persons  have  (we  believe  most  mis- 
takenly) attached  an  extreme  importance. 

In  dealing  with  this  matter,  great  confusion  and  numerous 
mistakes  have  arisen  from  the  fact  that  many  persons  will 
attempt  to  understand  and  explain  the  psychical  powers  of 
animals  without  having  previously  obtained  a  comprehen- 
sion of  their  own.  As  Mr.  C.  Lloyd  Morgan  has  amusingly 
remarked,1  "  the  psychologist  is  apt  sometimes  to  smile 
when,  after  the  recital  of  some  anecdote  of  animal  intelli- 
gence, the  writer  exclaims,  '  If  this  is  not  reason,  I  do  not 
know  what  reason  is.'  As,  however,  in  such  cases,  the 
writer  has  himself  suggested  the  alternative,  there  is  perhaps 
no  discourtesy  on  the  part  of  the  psychologist  in  accepting 
it."  Indeed,  men  often  interpret  the  actions  of  animals  in 
a  way  which  they  regard  as  being  simple  and  natural. 

1  In  his  excellent  work  entitled  Introduction  to  Comparative  Psychology,  p. 
261. 


THE   PSYCHICAL   ANTECEDENTS  OF  SCIENCE        155 

"  Simple  and  natural  "  such  explanations  would  be  if  they 
were  applied  to  human  beings,  but  exceedingly  forced  and 
unnatural  they  may  be  when  applied  in  estimating  the  acts 
of  creatures  the  natures  of  which  are  exceedingly  different. 
They  are  also  apt  to  be  caught  ia  a  snare,  which  it  is  as 
necessary  as  it  is  difficult  to  avoid.  This  is  the  necessity  we 
are  all  under  of  expressing  ourselves  in  terms  which  have 
been  gained  as  the  result  of  prolonged  processes  of  abstrac- 
tion, since,  as  we  have  before  observed,1  all  our  words  are  the 
results  of  such  processes.  To  make  use  of  such  symbols, 
then,  to  denote  psychical  states  which  are  not  the  result  of 
abstraction,  is  to  run  the  greatest  risk  either  of  misrepre- 
sentation or  of  being  misapprehended. 

Occam's  celebrated  saying,  "  Entia  non  sunt  multiplicanda 
prater  necessitatem,"  applies  to  psychology  as  well  as  to 
other  sciences,  and  it  forbids  us  to  credit  mere  animals  with 
the  higher  human  mental  powers  when  their  actions  can  be 
quite  well  explained  more  simply — by  those  lower  psychical 
activities  which  we  have  just  passed  in  review  as  existing  in 
ourselves.  The  tales  told  by  the  owners  of  pet  animals 
are  often  absolutely  untrustworthy,  so  strong  is  the  ten- 
dency they  have  unconsciously  to  exaggerate  the  perform- 
ances of  their  favourites,  and  naively  to  interpret  them  in 
terms  of  purely  human  psychology. 

As  to  the  highest  psychical  faculties  of  mere  animals  gen- 
erally— those  which  are  not  pets — many  persons  credit  them 
with  powers  (i)  of  perceiving  objects;  (2)  of  perceiving  rela- 
tions between  objects;  (3)  of  perceiving  their  own  existence 
— consciousness ;  (4)  of  having  ideas ;  (5)  of  reasoning;  (6)  of 
perceiving  moral  quality;  (7)  of  expressing  their  ideas  by 
sounds,  and  (8)  by  gestures. 

Since  the  question  of  animal  rationality  is  for  us  a  sub- 
ordinate question,  with  only  an  indirect  bearing  on  our  main 

1  See  ante^  p.  7. 


THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

conclusions,  we  are  compelled  to  consider  the  eight  just 
enumerated  points  but  very  briefly. 

That  animals  in  one  sense  perceive  objects  is,  of  course, 
unquestionable.  If  they  did  not  do  so,  coursing  and  hawk- 
ing would  be  impossible.  But  what  is  the  nature  of  such 
perceptions  ?  We  have  already  seen  how,  by  turning  the 
mind  backwards  and  considering  our  experience,  we  may 
recognise  that  we  have  had  perceptions  of  which  we  were 
not  conscious  at  the  time  we  experienced  them.  Such  per- 
ceptions were  sufficient  to  guide  our  movements,  as  they 
serve  to  guide  those  of  the  unconscious  sleep-walker — in  our 
words,  there  was  not  consciousness,  but  only  consentience. 
Need  we  then  credit  animals  with  more  than  this  ?  Such 
sense-perceptions  of  theirs  may  be  much  more  keen  and 
more  rapidly  cognised  than  are  our  own.  We  ourselves  do 
not  know  of  any  animal  actions  which  we  think  cannot  be 
explained  by  cognitions  of  this  lower  kind.  It  will  be  said, 
however,  for  a  cat  to  watch  the  movements  of  a  mouse  and 
to  catch  it,  needs  not  only  that  it  should  see  the  mouse,  but 
the  objects  around  it,  and  the  varying  bearings  of  the  run- 
ning mouse  thereto.  This,  of  course,  must  be  fully  con- 
ceded, yet  such  cognition  is  sufficiently  accounted  for  by 
that  mere  unintellectual,  unconscious  awareness  which  we 
have  termed1  the  "practical  imagination  of  means  to  an 
end." 

Again,  it  may,  perhaps,  be  objected  that  the  cat  not  only 
sees  the  mouse,  but  knows  that  it  is  a  mouse  and  nothing 
else.  This  also  may  be  freely  admitted  in  the  sense  of  a 
mere  sensuous  cognition  or  sense-perception.  But  there  is 
no  need  to  credit  the  animal  with  even  the  direct  perception 
of  the  mouse,  as  the  embodiment  of  a  universal  abstract 
idea,  such  as  is  possessed  by  the  lowest  and  most  uncultured 
human  being  who  is  sane.  The  cat  need  only  have  that 

1  See  ante,  p.  153. 


THE  PSYCHICAL   ANTECEDENTS   OF  SCIENCE 


synthesis  of  sensations  and  imaginations  —  that  kind  of  men- 
tal image  which  we  distinguish  as  a  "  sensuous  universal." 

If,  then,  we  need  not  credit  animals  with  the  perception 
of  objects  as  we  understand  perception,  can  we  credit  them 
with  any  perception  of  "  relations  "  between  objects  ?  The 
answer  to  this  question  will  make  yet  plainer  what  we  mean 
by  a  perception  of  objects  themselves  ;  since,  as  we  shall  see 
directly,  such  a  perception  of  objects  themselves  implies  a 
perception  of  relations  themselves. 

To  perceive  anything  with  conscious  perception,  though 
only  that  of  direct  consciousness,  also  implies  a  direct  con- 
sciousness of  the  main  relations  in  which  it  stands  to  other 
things,  and  which  differentiate  it  from  them.  To  perceive 
anything  with  reflex  consciousness,  which  affirms,  "  I  do 
know  that  thing  to  be  what  it  is,"  implies  and  necessitates 
a  reflex  consciousness  also  of  those  of  its  relations  which  en- 
able us  to  be  sure  it  is  what  it  is.  For  without  turning  back 
the  mind  to  reconsider  what  it  had  previously  done,  we  could 
not  recognise  the  relations  as  relations,  and  so  obtain  the 
certainty  we  are  thus  enabled  to  reach.  If  we  have  occa- 
sion to  note  only  one  relation  —  as  the  relation  of  right  and 
left  —  we  must,  to  be  conscious  of  it,  turn  our  attention  to 
both  these  conditions  successively,  and  then  simultaneously 
have  regard  to  both  terms,  or  we  could  not  apprehend  the 
relation. 

We  think  there  is  no  need  to  credit  animals  with  such 
complex  psychical  acts  in  order  to  explain  even  their  most 
startling  performances.  It  seems  to  us  that  their  consen- 
tience  affords  them  practically  sufficient  sensuous  percep- 
tions of  the  relations  in  which  objects  and  events  stand  to 
each  other,  as  well  as  of  the  objects  themselves. 

Similarly,  it  is  plain  that  animals  have  a  practical  sense  of 
their  existence,  and  run  no  risk  of  mistaking  another  creature 
for  themselves.  But  for  such  a  sensitive  synthesis  there  is 


158  THE   GROUNDWORK   OF  SCIENCE 

no  need  of  consciousness,  as  we  know  by  purely  human  ex- 
perience. All  that  is  needed  is  consentience,  and  this  no 
one  can  doubt  that  they  possess,  and  probably  exert  this 
faculty  with  greater  energy  than  we  do,  on  account  of  the 
absence  in  them  of  a  truly  intellectual,  conscious  self- 
perception,  such  as  that  which  enables  us  to  perceive  that 
"  I  am  I,  and  not  another." 

As  to  the  possession  by  animals  of  "  ideas,"  no  one  can 
deny  them  such  psychical  activities  as  are  often  so  termed — 
namely,  the  faint  revival  of  complex  groups  of  past  sensa- 
tions and  imaginations  previously  experienced,  and  varied 
associations  of  groups  of  groups  of  such  psychical  states. 
But  this  is  by  no  means  what  we  understand  by  "  ideas." 
An  "  idea  "  is  a  "  psychical  "  entity,  which  spontaneously 
starts  forth  in  our  mind,  upon  the  reception  of  certain 
sensuous  experiences  (sensations  and  imaginations),  like 
Athene  from  the  head  of  Zeus.  Thus  one  of  our  earliest 
ideas  is  also  the  most  ultimate  and  most  abstract,  namely, 
the  idea  of  being.  For  the  rest  we  must  refer  our  readers 
to  what  we  have  said  about  "  ideas  "  in  our  first  chapter.1 
But  it  has  been  very  unreasonably  contended,  since  animals 
examine  and  reject  some  things  for  food  and  yet  eat  other 
things  with  avidity,  that  they  must  have  such  universal 
ideas  as  "  good-for-eating  "  and  "  not-good-for-eating. " 
Now,  the  inner  nature  and  faculties  of  an  organism  can  only 
be  judged  of  by  the  outcome  of  its  powers,  whatever  these 
may  be.  If  animals  really  had  ideas  of  the  kind,  and  con- 
sciously performed  voluntary  acts  of  examination  in  order 
to  see  which  of  two  general  ideas  might  be  applicable  in  any 
given  case,  then  they  would,  most  surely,  soon  make  us 
very  fully  aware  of  it  by  other  less  equivocal  manifestations 
of  their  possession  of  intellectual  faculties  essentially  like 
our  own.  Interpretations  such  as  the  above  might  carry  us 

1  See  ante,  pp.  10-13. 


THE  PSYCHICAL  ANTECEDENTS   OF  SCIENCE         159 

very  far.  We  might  say,  for  instance,  that  plants  have 
abstract  ideas  of  "  suitable-for-nutrition  "  and  "  not-suit- 
able-for-nutrition,"  and  of  the  still  more  abstract  ideas, 
"  big-enough-to-be-worth-a-prolonged-effort,"  and  "  not- 
big-enough-to-be-worth-a-prolonged-effort. "  For  Venus's 
looking-glass  (Dioncea)  will  snap  together  the  blades  of  its 
singular  leaf  to  catch  an  insect,  but  will  not  do  so  to  catch 
a  non-digestible  object.  More  than  this,  if  the  blades  of  its 
leaf  have  closed  on  an  insect  of  very  small  size  (not  worth 
catching)  they  will  (it  is  said)  unclose  and  let  it  go  again; 
while  otherwise  they  will  hold  it  till  it  is  killed  and  digested. 

Animals,  even  very  lowly  ones,  possess  multitudes  of  com- 
plex associations  of  feelings  and  movements.  What,  then, 
is  more  to  be  expected  than  that  when  an  animal  experiences 
a  group  of  new  sensations  from  a  novel  object,  it  should 
apply  its  senses  and  consentience  to  aid  their  reception  and 
instinctively  make  movements  in  response  thereto  ?  Such 
movements  need  be  no  sign  of  the  existence  of  ideas  when 
other  evidence  clearly  points  to  their  non-existence. 

Sensuous  analogues  of  ideas,  then,  animals,  of  course, 
possess,  and  the  phenomena  they  present  do  not,  we  be- 
lieve, demand  the  recognition  in  them  of  any  higher  powers 
for  their  satisfactory  explanation. 

Similarly,  the  faculty  of  reason  which  we  possess  is,  we 
believe,  quite  distinct  from  any  power  possessed  by  mere 
animals.  There  are,  indeed,  many  actions  on  their  part 
which  at  first  sight  look  like  reason,  but  for  which  that  lower 
faculty  of  our  own  we  have  termed  1  "  expectant  imagina- 
tion "  amply  accounts,  so  far  as  we  can  see. 

In  considering  this  question  we  should  always  take  pains 
to  understand  and  correctly  appreciate  the  distinction  which 
exists  between  true  "  inference,"  which  is  an  essentially  in- 
tellectual apprehension  of  a  truth  as  implicitly  contained  in 

1  See  ante,  p.  150. 


l6o  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

other  truths,  and  that  mere  sensuous  reinstatement  of  past 
impressions  which  may  simulate  it.  The  latter  affection  is 
what  we  regard  as  the  "  sensuous  "  or  "  organic  "  inference 
of  animals.  Let  any  group  of  sensations  have  become  in- 
timately associated  with  certain  other  sensations,  then,  as 
before  pointed  out,  upon  the  recurrence  of  that  group,  an 
imagination  of  the  sensations  previously  associated  therewith 
spontaneously  arises  in  the  mind,  and  we  have,  as  before 
said,  an  expectant  feeling  of  their  proximate  actual  recur- 
rence— as  in  the  instance  of  a  flash  of  lightning  having  come, 
by  association,  to  lead  to  an  expectant  feeling  of  thunder 
to  follow. 

Thus  mere  "  association  "  may  give  rise  to  "  feelings  of 
expectation,"  which  when  satisfied  may  give  rise  to  a  feeling 
of  satisfaction  or  completion,  and  such  may  certainly  exist 
in  animals  as  well  as  in  ourselves  without  the  presence  of 
any  true  reasoning  faculty. 

In  Mr.  C.  Lloyd  Morgan's  work,1  already  referred  to, 
readers  will  find  a  very  painstaking  examination  of  the  evi- 
dence both  for  and  against  the  rationality  of  animals. 

Although  his  opinion  favours  the  non-existence  of  a  differ- 
ence of  kind  between  human  and  animal  intelligence,  he  is, 
nevertheless,  of  opinion  that  animals  can  neither  perceive 
relations  nor  reason,  and  that  with  the  advent  of  the  latter 
power  a  breach  of  continuity  and  a  fresh  departure  really 
took  place.  The  book  also  contains  a  careful  criticism  of  a 
variety  of  tales  concerning  animal  intelligence. 

He  is  also  of  opinion  that  animals  are  entirely  devoid  of 
ethical  perceptions;  but  other  persons  are  not  wanting  who 
do  credit  them  with  moral  perception ! 

That  dogs  will  not  only  love  their  master  but  readily  obey 
his  commands,  and  feel  pain  if  they  have  yielded  to  a  tempta- 
tion to  transgress  them,  may  be  very  true.  That  dogs  and 

1  Introduction  to  Comparative  Psychology. 


THE   PSYCHICAL  ANTECEDENTS  OF  SCIENCE        l6l 

other  animals  may  sometimes  feel  impelled  to  assist  their 
fellows  in  distress  on  witnessing  their  sufferings,  we  should 
not  care  to  dispute,  and  it  is  possible  that  to  some  migrating 
bird,  which  has  left  its  young  behind,  an  imagination  of  its 
deserted  brood  may  arise  and  cause  it  a  painful  emotion. 
But  such  feelings  have  really  nothing  to  do  with  ethical 
perception.  "  Conscience  "  is  the  exercise  of  judgment  in 
a  particular  direction.  It  is  a  particular  kind  of  judgment 
— namely,  a  judgment  about  "  right  "  and  "  wrong,"  and 
nothing  else.  Acting  rightly  is  often  pleasurable,  but  it  is 
also  not  unfrequently  very  painful,  for  it  may  tell  us  we  are 
bound  to  give  up  something  which  is  for  us  the  very  joy  of 
life,  or  to  take  upon  us  a  task  as  irksome  as  it  is  dutiful. 

It  is  plain  that  we  may  feel  pleasure  in  doing  things  which 
are  wrong,  for  certainly  otherwise  they  would  never  be  done. 
On  the  other  hand,  there  may  be  much  painful  regret  on  ac- 
count of  quite  innocent  actions,  such  as  some  trifling  breach 
of  etiquette.  Keen  remorse  also  may  be  felt  on  account  of 
having  neglected  some  excellent  opportunity  of  pushing  our 
fortune,  or  even  of  committing  some  very  pleasurable  but 
very  immoral  action. 

The  late  Mr.  Darwin,  who  may  be  regarded  as  the  leading 
exponent  of  the  view  which  would  regard  morality  as  essen- 
tially similar  in  men  and  animals,  said  that  "  conscience  " 
was  "  that  feeling  of  regretful  dissatisfaction  which  is  in- 
duced in  a  man  who  looks  back  and  judges  a  past  action  with 
disapproval."  Now  "  conscience  "  certainly  "  looks  back 
and  judges,"  but  not  every  act  of  that  kind  which  is  accom- 
panied by  "  regretful  dissatisfaction  "  is  a  moral  judgment. 

A  French  writer  has  said  that  no  regret  is  so  keen  as  the 
regret  which  may  accompany  the  recollection  of  the  non- 
commission  of  pleasant  sins  which  might  have  been  enjoyed. 

Such  judgments,  however  much  remorse  may  accompany 
them,  can  hardly  be  called  "  moral." 


1 62  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

The  profound  distinction  which  exists  between  the  idea 
"  goodness  "  and  every  other  idea,  will  be  made  plain  by  a 
consideration  of  the  reasons  which  may  be  urged  in  favour 
of  the  performance  of  any  plain  duty. 

Every  step  we  take  to  explain  why  any  duty  should  be 
performed,  must  consist  of  some  still  more  simple  assertion 
of  the  same  kind,  till  we  come  to  an  assertion  about  duty 
the  truth  of  which  is  admitted  to  be  self-evident. 

Now  all  our  certain  knowledge  must  be  either  evident  in 
itself  or  must  depend  upon  some  other  knowledge  which  is 
evident  in  itself.  As  we  have  before  remarked,  we  cannot 
go  on  arguing  forever,  and  every  proof  must  stop  some- 
where— namely,  when  we  reach  what  is  evident  of  itself,  and 
therefore  needs  no  proof. 

If,  then,  we  want  to  urge  some  statement  about  any  par- 
ticular action  being  "  right  "  or  "  wrong,"  if  that  statement 
be  not  admitted  to  be  evidently  true,  we  can  only  prove  it 
to  be  so  by  means  of  some  more  general  and  elementary 
statement  of  the  same  nature.  Therefore  the  judgments 
which  lie  at  the  root  of  any  system  of  thought  about  ethics 
(about  right  and  wrong)  must  themselves  be  ethical. 

This  profound  truth  shows  us  that  it  is  absolutely  impos- 
sible that  the  power  of  ethical  judgment  could  ever  have 
been  gained  through  the  experience  of  mere  feelings  of  liking 
or  disliking,  pleasure  or  pain,  sympathy  or  aversion,  good- 
will or  hostility  of  other  beings. 

It  is  a  distinct  kind  of  intellectual  perception,  and,  there- 
fore, if  animals  are  in  the  least  moral,  they  must  possess  the 
power  of  intellectual  perception,  and  also  be  able  to  form 
and  comprehend  highly  abstract  truths.  For  the  purpose 
of  this  work,  as  before  said,  it  does  not  matter  in  the  least 
whether  a  snail  or  a  starfish  has  or  has  not  this  intellectual 
faculty.  We  confess,  however,  that  we  have  been  .quite 
unable  to  obtain  evidence  satisfactory  to  us  that  any  mere 


THE  PSYCHICAL   ANTECEDENTS  OF  SCIENCE        163 

animals  are  endowed  with  intellect,  though  we  are  quite 
ready  to  consider  any  better  evidence  which  may  be  forth- 
coming. But  if  we  have  been  mistaken,  and  if  our  ethical 
judgments  have  been  mere  congeries  of  animal  feelings,  and 
ultimately  of  physical  impulses,  which  impulses  and  feelings 
have  lost  their  way  and  come  to  mistake  themselves  for 
something  else,  then  doubts  might  well  arise  as  to  the  other 
declarations  of  our  intellect,  falsus  in  uno,  falsus  in  omnibus, 
and  it  would  be  difficult  for  us  thus  to  arrive  at  a  satisfac- 
tory Epistemology. 

On  this  account  we  deem  it  well  to  make  a  few  more 
remarks  upon  the  essential  distinction  of  the  ethical  idea,  a 
recognition  of  the  validity  of  that  perception  being  for  our 
purposes  of  such  extreme  importance. 

In  the  first  place,  the  assertion  is  sometimes  made  that 
ethic  is  but  coincidence  with  "  social  approbation."  But 
no  stream  can  possibly  rise  higher  than  its  source.  "  Social 
approbation,"  then,  could  never  have  produced  the  concep- 
tion of  "  right  and  wrong  "  ;  for  how  could  a  mere  habit  of 
obeying  society  have  ever  led  a  moral  hero  to  denounce  that 
habit  and  defy  society  ? 

It  has,  again,  been  often  affirmed  that  there  is  no  real 
distinction  between  "  virtue  "  and  "  pleasure."  Instead  of 
there  being  any  absolute  distinction  between  them  it  is  said 
that  "  good  actions  "  are  merely  actions  pleasurable  or  use- 
ful to  the  individual  who  performs  them,  or  are  advan- 
tageous to  his  fellow-men.  They  say,  also,  that  it  is  the 
pleasurable  or  useful  results  which  cause  actions  to  be  good 
actions,  not  the  intentions  with  which  the  doer  may  perform 
them. 

It  is  true  we  say  "  That  is  a  '  good  '  knife  "  because  it 
cuts  well,  and  any  weapon  or  any  other  useful  article  is  said  to 
be  a  "good  "  one  if  it  well  serves  the  purpose  it  was  intended 
to  serve.  But  a  very  little  consideration  will  show  that  such 


164  THE  GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

a  use  of  the  word  does  not  bring  home  to  us  the  fundamen- 
tal meaning  of  the  term.  For  "  conformity  to  an  end  "  will 
not  make  an  action  good  unless  the  end  aimed  at  is  itself 
good  and  agreeable  to  duty — unless  by  conforming  to  it  we 
"  follow  the  right  order."  If  a  young  person,  carefully  in- 
structed by  a  thief,  conforms  to  the  end  aimed  at  so  com- 
pletely as  to  pick  pockets  with  extraordinary  deftness,  such 
"  conformity  "  will  not  make  his  action  a  "  good  "  one. 

But  if  the  end  aimed  at  is  really  a  good  end,  and  one  which 
is  for  us  a  "  duty,"  if  we  ask,  "  Why  should  we  do  our 
duty  ?  Why  should  we  follow  the  right  order  ?  "  the  only 
possible  final  answer  is,  "  It  is  right  so  to  do." 

If  it  be  urged  in  opposition  that  "  we  should  follow  the 
right  order  because  it  is  our  true  interest  to  do  so,"  he  who 
so  urges  must  either  mean  "  we  should  always  follow  our 
own  interest,"  which  is  abandoning  the  rule  of  "  right  and 
wrong"  altogether,  or  he  must  mean  "  we  should  follow 
our  interest,  not  because  it  is  our  interest,  but  because  it  is 
right  " — a  proposition  which,  however  mistaken  it  may  be 
in  fact,  yet  is  one  which,  in  its  mistaken  way,  affirms  the 
very  principle,  the  rule  of  "  right  and  wrong,"  which  it  was 
designed  to  oppose. 

But  persons  who  say  that  the  morality  of  any  action  de- 
pends on  its  results  can  always  be  refuted  simply  by  examin- 
ing into  the  assertions  about  duty  which  they  themselves 
make.  Thus  that  eminent  utilitarian  philosopher,  the  late 
John  Stuart  Mill,  declared  that  he  would  rather  go  to  hell 
than  consent  to  call  "  good  "  a  God  who  should  violate  the 
laws  of  the  highest  human  morality,  and  in  so  saying  he, 
of  course,  implied  that  other  men  ought  to  do  the  same. 

The  sentiment  was  a  very  admirable  one,  yet  singularly 
inconsistent  in  the  mouth  of  a  utilitarian.  For  on  the  one 
hand,  as  a  utilitarian,  he  taught  that  men  in  all  cases  should 
seek  the  greatest  happiness  for  all,  while  on  the  other  he 


THE  PSYCHICAL  ANTECEDENTS  OF  SCIENCE        165 

declared,  in  the  case  supposed,  that  in  so  pursuing  happi- 
ness they  should  all  voluntarily  plunge  into  the  greatest 
possible  misery. 

But  without  having  recourse  to  any  such  extreme  supposi- 
tion, the  simplest  facts  suffice  to  show  that  it  is  not  the  conse- 
quences of  an  act  but  the  intention  wherewith  it  is  performed 
which  makes  the  action  "  good  "  or  "  bad." 

Let  us  suppose  that  two  men  have  each  a  sick  wife,  and 
that  the  doctor  has  left  with  each  man  two  bottles :  one  a 
valuable  internal  remedy,  the  other  a  poisonous  lotion.  One 
of  these  men,  who  is  devoted  to  his  wife,  gives  her  by  pure 
mistake  the  lotion  to  drink,  and  kills  her.  The  other  man 
desires  to  poison  his  wife,  but,  by  also  making  a  mistake  as 
to  the  bottles,  gives  her  unintentionally  the  right  medicine 
and  cures  her.  Can  there  be  any  doubt  as  to  who  is  the 
truly  guilty  man  ?  Who  would  venture  to  assert  that  the 
act  of  the  second  man  was  really  a  "  good  "  action  because, 
in  spite  of  his  evil  intention,  it  had  a  good  result  ? 

Again,  it  was  said  that  the  highest  virtue  is  to  do  good 
without  thinking  about  it.  Yet  it  cannot  be  the  mere  ab- 
sence of  thought  which  makes  a  spontaneously  performed 
useful  action  specially  meritorious  ;  otherwise  we  should 
attain  the  climax  of  virtue  by  performing  beneficial  actions 
unconsciously,  in  a  state  of  somnambulism. 

The  truly  admirable  nature  of  good  actions  done  spon- 
taneously and  without  reflection,  lies  in  their  being  the 
result  of  previously  acquired  good  habits  and  of  a  fixed, 
undeviating  direction  of  the  will  towards  what  is  right.  But 
this  does  not  make  such  acts  blind  actions,  and  deprive  the 
doer  of  all  power  of  knowing  what  he  is  about.  A  man 
cannot  act  from  a  sense  of  justice  without  knowing  justice 
from  injustice,  and  to  approve  habitually  of  kind  and  good 
acts  he  must  know  what  "  goodness"  is. 

But  another  objection  against  the  existence  of  any  abso- 


1 66  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

lute  distinction  between  "  right  "  and  "  wrong  "  is  some- 
times drawn  from  the  fact  that  different  nations  (and  the 
same  nation  at  different  times)  take  different  views  as  to  the 
"  goodness  "  of  some  particular  kind  of  action.  But  this 
argument  is  quite  valueless.  It  would  be  absurd,  indeed, 
to  suppose  that  all  men  were  somehow  furnished  with  a 
whole  code  of  laws  directing  what  is  to  be  done  and  what 
abstained  from  in  all  cases.  What  we  affirm  is,  that  all 
men  (idiots  apart)  can  perceive  that  there  is  such  a  thing  as 
"  right  "  and  "  wrong."  Men  are  not  necessarily  devoid 
of  morality  because  they  draw  their  lines  and  rules  in  differ- 
ent places,  and  actions  revolting  to  us,  such  as  the  killing  of 
parents,  may  seem  good  to  those  who- kill,  if  they  act  in 
obedience  to  the  wishes  of  their  parents,  and  to  procure  for 
them,  as  they  suppose,  a  happy  immortality. 

For  the  existence  of  moral  perception  it  is  by  no  means 
necessary  that  men  should  always  agree  about  the  application 
of  ethical  principles;  what  they  agree  about,  though  they 
need  not  cognise  it  by  a  reflex  act,  is  that  some  actions  are 
wrong  and  deserve  punishment.  The  merest  savage  knows 
that  an  ungrateful  and  treacherous  injury  inflicted  on  him- 
self is  an  act  of  that  kind.  Australian  savages  appear  to 
have  very  clear  and  precise  ethical  notions  about  punish- 
ments which  they  have  themselves  merited,  and  will  hold 
out  a  limb  to  be  speared  when  they  have  done  an  act  which 
merits  that  chastisement. 

Though  tribes  may  differ  as  to  what  is  right  and  just, 
men  have  never  thought  an  action  to  be  right  because  it 
was  unjust,  or  because  it  was  ungrateful,  or  another  act  to 
be  wrong  because  it  was  just  or  kind. 

So  essential  is  the  distinction  between  the  "  good  "  and 
the  "  useful,"  that  not  only  does  the  idea  of  "  benefit  " 
not  enter  into  the  idea  of  "  duty,"  but  the  very  fact  of  an 
action  not  being  beneficial  may  make  it  praiseworthy.  Its 


THE  PSYCHICAL  ANTECEDENTS  OF  SCIENCE        167 

merit  may  be  increased  by  any  self-denial  which  attends  on 
its  performance,  and  also  decreased  by  gain. 

To  nurse  carefully  and  tenderly  is  "  good,"  but  our  ap- 
preciation of  its  merit  is  diminished  if  we  know  that  the 
patient's  death  has  brought  his  nurse  a  rich  and  hoped-for 
legacy.  A  woman  may  have  an  immoral  connection  with 
another's  husband,  but  if  we  find  that  instead  of  any  gain 
thereby  accruing,  she  has  sacrificed  herself  for  him,  our 
censure  may  be  thereby  mitigated,  since  it  shows  she  "  has 
loved  much." 

In  the  material  gain  or  loss  which  may  attend  our  acts  it 
is  not  that  the  absence  of  the  former,  or  of  pleasure,  bene- 
fits our  neighbour  more ;  it  is  that  any  diminution  of  pleasure 
which  circumstances  may  occasion  (irrespective  of  any  ad- 
vantage thereby  occasioned  to  our  neighbour)  in  itself 
heightens  the  value  of  an  action.  But  evidently  that  can 
never  be  the  substance  of  duty  which  makes  any  act  more 
dutiful  by  its  absence! 

The  conception  of  duty  is  the  conception  of  something 
supreme  and  absolute,  apart  from  all  question  of  pleasures 
and  pains,  rewards  and  punishments,  and  also  of  utility. 
As  Cicero  said,  it  is  "Quod  tale  est  ut  detracta  omni  utilitate 
sive  aliis  prcemiis  fructibusque  per  se  ipsumpossitjure  laudari. " 

Some  of  our  readers  may,  perhaps,  fancy  that  we  have 
devoted  too  much  space  to  this  question  of  ethics.  But 
without  a  full  explanation  of  a  matter  so  often  misunder- 
stood and  misrepresented,  the  problem  concerning  the 
morality  of  brutes  could  not  be  demonstrated  with  sufficient 
clearness.  There  is,  however,  another  reason  why  we  have 
thought  it  well  to  dwell  at  some  length  upon  this  question. 
We  have  done  so  in  anticipation  of  what  we  shall  have  to 
say  in  our  eighth  chapter  concerning  our  highest  faculties, 
and  we  consider  that  it  has  a  bearing  on  Epistemology, 
which  cannot  reasonably  be  ignored. 


1 68  THE    GROUNDWORK   OF  SCIENCE 

We  will  now  return  to  the  question  of  the  psychical 
powers  of  brutes,  and  notice  some  anecdotes  and  examples 
of  their  asserted  intellectuality. 

In  considering  the  value  of  the  reports  made  about  the  in- 
telligence of  this  or  that  animal,1  we  ought  carefully  to  bear 
in  mind  two  facts.  If  the  creatures  about  which  the  asser- 
tions are  made  are  creatures  low  in  the  scale  of  animal  life, 
we  should  recollect  the  extraordinary  development  of  in- 
stinct amongst  the  class  of  insects.  If  the  creatures  referred 
to  are  animals  of  a  superior  kind,  then  we  should  compare 
their  actions  with  those  lower  faculties  which  we  possess, 
and  which,  as  we  have  seen,8  enable  us  to  do  so  many  things 
in  a  merely  automatic  manner.  We  should  recollect  how 
we  every  now  and  then  have  experienced  a  feeling  of  malaise, 
we  did  not  know  on  what  account,  till  we  have  found  it 
suddenly  relieved  by  finding  something  which  was  pre- 
viously missing,  though  we  were  not  conscious  of  missing  it 
till  the  shock  we  experienced  on  our  having  automatically 
found  it  has  called  our  attention  to  the  matter.  We  our- 
selves have  frequently  experienced  this  when  one  of  the 
various  objects  we  habitually  carry  in  our  pockets  has  been 
unconsciously  transferred  from  one  to  another.  We  can, 
as  everyone  knows,  do  many  things  automatically  and  with- 
out consciousness  which  we  often  perform  with  full  con- 
sciousness. This  fact  makes  it  probable  that  similar  actions 
may  take  place  in  animals,  and  another  fact  is  also  very 
significant :  this  is  the  notorious  circumstance  that  persons 
deprived  of  one  of  their  senses  often  have  their  remaining 
senses  made  more  acute.  It  is  also  commonly  affirmed  that 
some  savages,  who  have  very  little  intellectual  power,  have 
much  keener  powers  of  seeing,  hearing,  and,  perhaps,  even 

1  No  one  has  better  or  more  thoroughly  advocated  the  rationality  of  animals 
than  the  late  Mr.  Romanes.     See  his  book  entitled  Mental  Evolution  in  Man. 
9  See  ante,  pp.  143-156. 


THE   PSYCHICAL   ANTECEDENTS  OF  SCIENCE        169 

of  smelling,  than  we  have.  How  much  keener  still  may  not 
be  the  sensitive  powers  of  creatures  whose  whole  being  is 
entirely  given  up  to  sensitivity,  without  its  being  interfered 
with  by  any  true  intellectual  activity !  It  should  surely 
cause  us  little  wonder  if  we  find  them  doing  many  things 
which  we  ourselves  could  not  do  in  similar  circumstances. 
That  an  elephant  should  blow  through  its  trunk  on  the 
ground  beyond  some  object  it  sought  to  obtain,  and  thus  to 
drive  it  back ;  that  a  bear  should  paw  the  water  in  order  to 
bring  a  floating  piece  of  bread  within  reach,  or  that  dogs, 
accustomed  to  rivers  or  the  seashore,  should  automatically 
allow  for  the  action  of  currents  with  which  they  were  prac- 
tically familiar,  need  occasion  no  surprise  to  anyone.  Such 
actions  are  just  the  ones  we  might  confidently  anticipate 
should  take  place  under  the  given  circumstances. 

The  late  Mr.  Darwin  related  the  circumstance  that  a  dog 
of  his,  on  hearing  the  words  "  Hi !  hi !  where  is  it  ?  "  rushed 
about,  looking  in  all  directions  and  even  up  into  trees;  and 
he  considered  that  these  actions  clearly  showed  that  the  dog 
entertained  "  a  general  idea  that  some  animal  was  to  be 
discovered  and  hunted."  Now,  of  course,  such  sounds 
uttered  in  an  eager  voice  excited  the  dog's  emotions  and 
awoke  in  its  consentience  reminiscences  of  before-experi- 
enced groups  of  smells,  sounds,  colours,  and  motions  and 
relations  of  various  kinds,  between  them  previously  con- 
nected with  pleasurable  activities  and  feelings  of  cravings 
satisfied,  etc.,  etc.  But  such  groups  of  feelings,  vivid  and 
faint,  are,  as  we  have  seen  before,  something  very  different 
from  "  a  general  idea." 

Wolves  have  both  a  fear  of  man  and  a  suspicious  feeling 
with  respect  to  traps  and  snares,  on  which  account  they 
have  been  credited  with  possessing  an  "  abstract  idea  of 
danger."  But  the  lower  human  unconscious  activities  we 
have  passed  in  review  are  amply  sufficient  to  account  for 


1 70  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

such  phenomena,  especially  as  the  smell  of  man  may  often 
lead  a  wolf  not  to  touch  a  bait  which  a  man  has  set  for  him. 
In  order  correctly  to  appreciate  the  limits  of  the  emotional 
language  of  animals,  we  must  understand  how  much  they 
can  do  by  mere  consentience,  and  that  actions  on  their  part, 
at  which  most  ignorant  wonder  is  often  expressed,  do  not 
imply  either  self-consciousness  or  the  possession  of  any  ab- 
stract ideas.  All  the  actions  of  the  most  intelligent  animal 
can,  we  think,  be  fully  understood  as  results  of  powers 
similar  to  our  own  lower  faculties  described  in  the  last 
chapter.  For  such  actions  on  the  part  of  animals,  it  is 
necessary,  indeed,  that  they  should  sensibly  cognise  things, 
but  not  that  they  should  perceive  them  intellectually ;  that 
they  should  feel  themselves  as  existing,  but  not  recognise 
their  own  existence ;  that  they  should  feel  relations  between 
objects,  but  not  perceive  them  as  relations ;  that  they  should 
remember,  but  not  seek  to  recollect,  or  know  that  what 
actually  recurs  to  memory  really  relates  to  a  past  recognised 
as  such;  that  they  should  feel  and  express  emotions,  but 
not  know  they  possess  them ;  that  they  should  seek  what 
pleases  them,  but  not  aim  at  pleasure  knowingly,  or  know 
that  the  pleasure  they  feel  is  pleasurable.  By  the  exercise 
of  such  merely  sensitive  faculties,  brutes  can  pursue  an  es- 
caping prey,  jump  up  banks  or  rocks,  climb  to  attain  what 
is  otherwise  out  of  reach,  raise  up  a  dam,  as  does  the  beaver, 
or  make  use  of  a  stone  to  crack  a  hard  nut,  as  does  the 
American  sapajou  ape.  Actions  such  as  these  are  performed 
to  complete  a  harmony  which  the  imagination  craves,  owing 
to  associations  previously  effected  between  groups  of  feel- 
ings and  emotions,  and  groups  of  groups  of  such.  A  cat 
does  not  need  to  entertain  any  intellectual  knowledge  or 
belief  that  the  sound  of  clattering  plates  means  possible 
food,  to  attain  which  it  must  make  certain  movements. 
Quite  independently  of  such  belief,  and  by  virtue  of  mere 


THE  PSYCHICAL  ANTECEDENTS  OF  SCIENCE        17 1 

sensuous  association,  the  sound  of  the  plates  alone  is  enough 
to  give  rise  to  such  movements  on  the  part  of  the  cat  as 
have  previously  become  associated  with  pleasant  sensations 
of  taste.  Let  certain  sensations,  emotions,  and  movements 
become  associated,  and  then  the  former  need  not  be  noted ; 
they  only  need  to  exist  for  the  association  formed  to  produce 
its  effects.  When  the  circumstances  of  any  case  differ  from 
those  of  some  previous  experiences,  but  imperfectly  resemble 
those  of  many  past  experiences,  parts  of  these,  and  conse- 
quent actions,  are  irregularly  suggested  by  the  laws  of  re- 
semblance, until  such  action  is  hit  on  which  relieves  pain  or 
gives  pleasure.  For  instance,  let  a  dog  be  lost  by  its  master 
in  a  field  in  which  it  has  never  been  before.  The  presence 
of  a  group  of  feelings  which  we  know  to  indicate  its  master 
is  associated  with  pleasure,  while  the  absence  of  those  feel- 
ings gives  pain.  By  past  experience  an  association  has  been 
formed  between  this  feeling  of  pain  and  such  movements 
of  the  head  as  tend  to  recover  some  part  of  that  group,  its 
recovery  being  again  associated  with  movements  which,  de 
facto,  diminish  the  distance  between  the  dog  and  its  master. 
The  dog,  therefore,  pricks  up  its  ears,  raises  its  head,  and 
looks  round.  Its  master  is  nowhere  to  be  seen ;  but  at  the 
corner  of  the  field  there  is  visible  a  gate  at  the  end  of  a  lane, 
which  resembles  a  lane  in  which  he  has  walked.  An  image 
of  that  other  lane  and  of  its  master  walking  there  presents 
itself  to  the  imagination  of  the  dog;  it  runs  to  the  present 
lane,  but  on  getting  into  it  he  is  not  there.  From  the  lane, 
however,  the  dog  can  see  a  tree  on  the  other  side  of  which 
he  was  accustomed  to  rest ;  the  same  process  is  repeated, 
but  he  is  not  found.  Of  course,  throughout,  the  dog  has 
everywhere  exercised  its  sense  of  smell  but  in  vain.  At 
last  it  goes  home.  By  the  action  of  such  feelings,  imagi- 
nations, and  associations,  which  we  know,  by  what  takes 
place  in  ourselves,  do  really  exist  and  act  as  causes  —  by 


172  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

these,  all  the  apparently  intelligent  actions  of  animals  can, 
in  our  opinion,  be  explained  without  the  need  of  calling  in 
the  help  of  true  intellect,  the  existence  of  which  in  them  is 
inconsistent  with  the  phenomena  they,  as  a  whole,  exhibit, 
and  which,  did  it  exist,  would  most  certainly  make  itself 
very  plainly  manifest  to  us  in  many  and  often  in  very 
unpleasant  ways. 

A  stag  which  "  doubles  "  on  its  own  footsteps,  when 
hunted  or  before  retiring  to  rest,  has  been  credited,  in  the 
former  case,  with  seeking  to  confuse  its  trail  against  real 
dogs,  and  in  the  latter  case  against  imaginary  hounds  which 
may  possibly  be  on  the  scent.  But  there  is  not  the  slightest 
need  of  such  intellectual  conceptions  on  the  part  of  the  stag 
to  account  for  such  actions,  which  are  clearly  instinctive,  like 
the  actions  of  the  dog,  which  instinctively  turns  round  and 
round  on  a  drawing-room  hearth-rug  before  lying  down,  just 
as  if  it  were  in  its  ancestral  home  in  the  greenwood  where 
herbs  needed  pressing  down  and  treading  round  to  make  a 
comfortable  bed.  . 

Mr.  Romanes  cites '  an  amusing  tale  from  a  Miss  Bram- 
ston  about  a  certain  archiepiscopal  collie  dog  which  had  ac- 
quired a  habit  of  hunting  imaginary  pigs  every  evening 
directly  after  family  prayers.  The  fact  is  put  forward  as  an 
important  instance  of  something  beyond  mere  animal  capac- 
ity as  commonly  understood ;  but,  in  truth,  the  fact  is  so 
easily  explicable  by  a  mere  association  of  sensations,  that  it 
may  well  be  cited  as  a  type  for  other  instances  more  or  less 
similar  but  not  so  easily  explicable.  It  appears  the  animal 
had  formerly  been  accustomed  to  be  sent  to  chase  real  pigs 
out  of  a  field,  and  so  the  sound  of  the  word  "  pigs  "  and 
the  pleasurable  action  of  running  about  after  them  had 
become  associated  in  the  dog's  imagination.  It  had  been 
the  custom  for  Miss  Branston  to  open  the  door  for  the  collie 

1  Op.  ctf.,  p.  56. 


THE  PSYCHICAL   ANTECEDENTS  OF  SCIENCE        1/3 

after  dinner  in  the  evening  and  say  "  Pigs!  "  when  it  very 
naturally  ran  out  and  ran  about  according  to  its  previously  ac- 
quired habit.  Soon  this  exercise  became  in  its  turn  a  matter 
of  habit,  and  the  phenomena  attending  the  termination  of 
dinner,  or,  later,  of  family  prayers,  very  naturally  gave  rise 
in  the  collie  to  an  expectant  feeling  (such  as  may  arise  with- 
out consciousness  in  ourselves  *)  of  the  door  being  opened 
for  the  accustomed  pleasurable  excitement.  If  the  door 
was  not  opened,  the  habit  being  now  well  established,  the 
expectant  feeling,  growing  more  and  more  vivid  with  delay, 
could  hardly  fail  to  elicit  barks,  tail-waggings,  and  move- 
ments towards  the  exceptionally  unopened  door,  and  the 
accumulating  excitement  might  very  well  lead  it  at  last  to 
run  out  and  bark  without  waiting  for  the  utterance  of  the 
word  "  pigs  "  ;  nor  is  it  in  the  least  surprising  to  learn  that 
the  phenomena  attending  family  prayers  at  Miss  Bramston's 
house  should  arouse  in  the  dog  the  same  kind  of  expectant 
feelings  and  the  therewith  associated  actions,  which  had  be- 
come so  engrained  during  its  residence  at  the  archbishop's. 
We  ought,  perhaps,  also  to  notice  the  oft-told  tale  about 
crows  which  have  been  thought  able  to  count.  It  appears 
that  somewhere  beneath  the  nests  shot  at  was  a  watch- 
house,  and  by  its  aid  the  wary  crow  was,  only  after  several 
vain  attempts,  finally  deceived.  When  about  to  shoot  the 
nests,  in  order  to  deceive  the  suspicious  bird,  the  plan  was 
hit  upon  of  sending  two  men  to  the  watch,  one  of  whom 
passed  on  while  the  other  remained.  This  stratagem  was 
without  effect.  The  next  day  three  went,  but  the  bird 
merely  looked  on  while  only  two  returned,  and  it  was  found 
necessary  to  send  five  or  six  men  to  the  watch-house  before 
her  senses  were  sufficiently  confused.  But  there  was  surely 
nothing  very  wonderful  in  the  fact  that  a  crow,  seeing  a  man 
go  beneath  her  nest  with  a  gun,  should  keep  clear  till  she 

1  See  ante,  p.  150. 


1/4  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

saw  him  go  away,  even  if  he  had  hidden  himself  for  a  time. 
What  marvel  was  it,  then,  that  the  bird's  sense-perception 
felt  a  difference  between  the  visual  picture  presented  by  a 
group  of  three  men  and  another  presented  by  only  two  ? 
The  wonder  rather  is  that  the  crow  should  not  have  been 
more  discriminative. 

But  obtuseness  to  numerical  differences  on  the  part  of 
highly  organised  animals,  such  as  dogs  and  cats,  seems  to 
us  very  wonderful,  indeed  absolutely  to  negative  their 
possession  of  any  sensitive  faculty  which  might  run  parallel 
with  our  idea  of  number.  Such  is  the  case,  since  both 
bitches  and  she-cats  do  not  seem  to  miss  a  single  pup  or 
kitten  which  may  be  taken  away  from  the  others  in  her  litter 
when  they  have  not  actually  witnessed  the  act  of  its  being 
taken  away. 

But  the  fact  which  has  been  most  relied  on  as  a  proof  that 
a  mere  animal  can  understand  what  "  number  "  is,  was  the 
fact  that  a  chimpanzee  known  as  Sally,  and  which  lived  a 
long  time  at  the  Zoological  Gardens,  was  in  the  habit  of 
picking  up  the  exact  number  of  straws  she  was  told  to  pick 
up  by  her  keeper.  She  would  pick  up  separately  from  the 
ground,  place  in  her  mouth,  and  then  present  to  him  in  one 
bunch,  two,  three,  four,  five,  and,  we  believe,  ultimately, 
ten  straws,  as  she  was  told.  She  had  distinctly  associated 
the  several  sounds  of  these  numbers  with  corresponding 
groups  of  picked-up  straws.  The  ape  would  also,  on  com- 
mand, pass  a  straw  through  a  large  or  a  small  hole  in  the 
fastening  of  its  cage,  or  through  a  particular  interspace  of 
its  wire-netting.  It  would  also  put  objects  into  its  keeper's 
pocket,  play  various  odd  tricks  with  boy  visitors,  howl 
horribly  when  told  to  sing,  and  hold  on  its  head  pieces  of 
apple,  remaining  perfectly  quiescent  till  some  particular 
word  was  said.  This  last  trick,  however,  is  one  of  the  com- 
monest performed  by  pet  dogs,  and  the  putting  of  objects 


THE   PSYCHICAL   ANTECEDENTS  OF  SCIENCE        175 

into  the  keeper's  pocket  was  nothing  remarkable.  The 
passing  of  a  straw  through  a  special  aperture  on  command 
would  have  been  more  so  but  for  the  fact  that  the  basis  of 
the  whole  superstructure  of  such  tricks  was  laid  by  the 
animal  itself  having  spontaneously  taken  to  the  trick  of  pick- 
ing up  a  straw  and  passing  it  through  a  small  hole  near  the 
keyhole  of  the  door  of  the  cage — possibly  as  a  result  of 
having  seen  a  key  put  in  and  out  of  the  keyhole.  Having 
thus  itself  acquired  a  habit  of  picking  up  straws  and  passing 
them  through  a  hole,  there  could  be  little  difficulty  in  get- 
ting it  to  pass  the  straw  through  other  holes,  and  not  much 
in  getting  it  to  pick  up  more  straws  than  one.  That  it 
should  have  associated  certain  motions  with  the  sound  of 
certain  words  is  no  more  than  dogs,  pigs,  and  various  other 
animals  lower  in  the  scale  will  accomplish. 

There  remains,  then,  as  the  single  distinguishing  peculiar- 
ity of  this  case,  the  association  in  the  ape's  imagination  and 
consentience  of  the  words  one,  two,  three,  four,  five,  or  ten, 
with  the  picking  up,  holding,  and  handing  over  a  corre- 
sponding number  of  straws.  This  fact  of  association  is,  so 
far  as  we  know,  exceptional,  and  it  is,  therefore,  very  in- 
teresting. But  it  does  not  prove  that  the  animal  has  any 
idea  of  these  numbers — not  of  course  as  numbers — but  as  so 
many  separate  things. 

The  idea  of  number  implies  comparison  with  a  simultane- 
ous recognition  of  both  distinctness  and  similarity  ;  although, 
of  course,  it  is  not  necessary  that  the  fact  of  our  having  such 
apprehensions  should  be  adverted  to.  No  two  things  could 
be  known  to  be  two  without  an  apprehension  that  while  they 
are  numerically  distinct  they  can  in  some  way  be  thought 
of  as  belonging  to  one  class  of  objects.  We  could  not 
reasonably  say  that  four  tons  of  coal  and  four  o'clock  are 
"  eight,"  or  that  Hamlet's  idea  of  a  future  life  and  the  At- 
lantic cable  are  "  two,"  unless  we  mean  to  speak  of  them  as 


176  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

two  of  our  thoughts;  in  which  case  they  would  be  two 
species  of  the  genus  "  our  ideas." 

Sally  was  but  one  of  many  animals  that  had  come  to  as- 
sociate very  complex  bodily  movements  with  articulate 
sounds.  The  marvel  of  the  matter  is,  in  fact,  due  to  a  trick 
our  own  imagination  plays  us.  The  keeper's  words  of  com- 
mand expressed  and  implied  the  highly  abstract  idea  of 
number,  and  as  that  idea  and  our  sensuous  impression  of 
such  utterances  have  become  closely  connected,  so  we  are 
apt  to  picture  to  ourselves  a  like  connection  as  existing  in 
the  cognitive  faculty  of  the  ape.  But  its  presence  there  is 
by  no  means  necessary  to  explain  the  action,  while  if  such 
a  highly  abstract  idea  was  present  there,  the  animal  would 
not  allow  us  long  to  remain  doubtful  about  such  a  fact. 

We  well  recollect  having  specially  questioned  Sally's 
keeper  as  to  whether  she  ever  pointed  to  any  object  or 
made  use  of  any  gesture  with  the  evident  purpose  of  calling 
attention  to  some  fact  or  passing  occurrence. 

Although  he  was  well  disposed  to  extol  the  powers  of  his 
charge  so  far  as  truth  would  permit,  he  distinctly  assured  us 
that  she  did  not  do  so.  If  anyone  came  in  with  a  gun  Sally 
would  show  extreme  terror,  but  she  never  pointed  to  it,  or 
by  gesture  called  the  keeper's  attention  to  the  dreaded  ob- 
ject. We  were  unable  to  see  or  hear  anything  which  rend- 
ered it  possible  to  attribute  to  this  very  interesting  animal  a 
psychical  nature  of  a  higher  kind  than  that  possessed  by  other 
beasts.  It  appeared  to  us  to  have  the  same  kind  of  powers 
they  possessed,  though  possibly  somewhat  higher  in  degree. 
But  this,  surely,  is  just  what  we  might  have  anticipated. 

We  may  sum  up  the  conclusions  at  which  we  have  arrived 
as  follows :  The  minds  of  animals  are  analogous  to  ours,  but 
the  analogy  is  expressed,  as  it  were,  on  a  lower  plane.  They 
are  astonished,  but  do  not  know  it ;  things  recur  to  them 
through  their  memory,  but  they  know  not  that  they  have 


THE  PSYCHICAL   ANTECEDENTS  OF  SCIENCE        1 77 

recurred  or  that  they  remember.  They  recognise  objects, 
both  natural  and  artificial,  but  they  have  no  idea  of  them  as 
being  either.  A  dog  may  fear  another  dog  which  is  stronger 
and  fiercer,  but  it  will  have  no  idea  of  courage  or  fierceness. 
Even  insects  will  distinguish  between  differently  coloured 
objects — the  white  from  the  blue,  the  red  from  the  yellow — 
but  no  animal  knows  whiteness  or  blueness,  and  still  less  has 
it  any  notion  of  "  colour."  Thus,  the  so-called  "  intelli- 
gence, understanding,  and  knowledge  "  of  animals  are  not 
really  true  intelligence,  understanding,  and  knowledge. 
They  are  the  sensuous  groundwork  of  such  intellectual 
faculties.  Since,  also,  they  have  no  abstract  ideas,  they 
cannot  think  "  I."  Yet,  as  we  have  said,  though  they  have 
not  consciousness,  they  possess  consentience,  for  we  cannot 
doubt  that  in  them,  as  in  us,  sensitive  influences  of  different 
kinds  are  received  into  one  common  sensorium.  A  tiger 
not  only  hears  the  plaintive  cries  of  its  victim,  but  at  the 
same  time  can  see  and  feel  its  writhing  limbs,  and  taste  and 
smell  its  blood.  Such  sensations  also,  no  doubt,  call  up 
within  it  more  or  less  distinct  reminiscences  of  similar  feel- 
ings previously  experienced,  and  give  rise  to  vivid  emotions 
and  to  appropriate  actions. 

But  the  irrationality  of  animals  is  shown  by  what,  if  they 
were  rational,  would  have  to  be  called  their  exceeding 
stupidity.  Acts  which  would  be  reckoned  as  signs  of  ex- 
treme obtuseness  in  us  are  common  enough  amongst  animals 
usually  reckoned  as  the  most  intelligent.  The  fidelity  of 
dogs  is  proverbial,  but  in  a  sudden  scuffle  it  is  by  no  means 
an  unprecedented  thing  for  a  dog  to  fly  at  its  own  master. 

Dogs  have  seen  fuel  put  upon  fires  again  and  again,  yet 
what  dog  ever  puts  on  any  itself  to  maintain  the  heat  it  so 
much  enjoys  ?  Apes  have  been  said  sometimes  to  warm 
themselves  at  deserted  fires,  yet  no  one  asserts  that  they 
have  replenished  them.  It  is  quite  wonderful  they  do  not, 


THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

for  such  an  act  seems  to  come  well  within  the  scope  of  mere 
sensuous  faculties.  Some  readers  may  have  had  a  pet  cat 
which  has  now  and  again  got  a  piece  of  bone  fixed  between 
its  back  teeth.  The  useless  motions  the  animal,  when  so 
circumstanced,  will  make  with  its  paw  are  sufficiently  irra- 
tional; but  although  the  accident  may  have  occurred  to  it 
several  times,  it  will  act  in  the  same  way  again  and  again, 
and  will  sometimes  stupidly  struggle  against  its  master  while 
he  removes  the  object  which  distresses  it,  and,  as  soon  as  it 
is  removed,  the  animal  will  go  off  licking  its  jaws  without  a 
sign  of  gratitude  for  the  relief  afforded. 

Swallows  will  continue  to  build  on  a  house  which  they  can 
see  is  being  pulled  down,  and  flies  will  deposit  their  eggs  on 
•a  carrion  plant  instead  of  on  real  carrion.  Even  an  elephant, 
an  animal  often  thought  so  extremely  wise,  has  been  known 
to  be  so  extremely  stupid  as  to  pull  off  the  end  of  its  trunk 
(which  had  got  caught  in  a  cord)  instead  of  calling  for  help 
and  waiting  till  its  keeper  came. 

But  in  truth  animals  merit  no  such  reproach,  for,  of 
course,  they  cannot  make  use  of  faculties  they  do  not 
possess,  while  they  make,  as  a  rule,  an  admirable  and  ex- 
cellent use  of  those  non-intellectual  faculties  wherewith  they 
are  actually  endowed. 

We  venture  to  think  that  the  facts  and  anecdotes  we  have 
here  considered  are  sufficient  for  our  purpose;  but  certain 
alleged  cases  of  sign-making  on  the  part  of  animals  will  be 
noticed  in  our  next  chapter  on  science  and  language. 

In  the  preceding  chapter  we  cited  various  instances  of  the 
high  degree  to  which  the  faculty  known  as  "  instinct  "  may 
be  developed  as  so  many  physical  facts.  In  the  present 
chapter  we  propose  to  deal  with  instinct  as  a  feeling,  and 
consider  the  question  as  to  what  may  be  its  true  nature. 
We  have  seen  '  that  it  exists  unmistakably  in  man,  though 

1  See  ante,  pp.  126,  127. 


THE  PSYCHICAL  ANTECEDENTS  OF  SCIENCE 

it  is  but  very  poorly  developed  in  him  compared  with  what 
we  find  existing  in  many  of  the  lower  animals,  notably 
insects.1 

Of  course  we  are  unconscious  of  the  performance  of  our 
own  instinctive  actions,  and  the  essence  of  instinct  is  that  its 
acts  should  be  performed  blindly.  But  by  observation,  re- 
flection, and  reasoning,  we  can  be  very  sure  that  we  have 
performed — that  we  must  have  performed — certain  instinct- 
ive actions  in  early  life.  What  ground,  then,  can  there  be 
to  suppose  that  such  instinctive  actions  of  animals  as  we 
have  hereinbefore  described,  are  accompanied  by  anything 
more  than  feelings  such  as  unconsciously  exist  in  the  human 
infant  ? 

Montaigne  sought  to  explain  instinct  by  intelligence,  but 
it  is  surely  obvious  that  the  acts  of  chicks  newly  hatched, 
or  of  young  snakes,  who  from  their  mother's  womb  have 
been  untimely  ripped,  cannot  be  due  to  intelligent  purpose. 
It  is  impossible  to  suppose  that  any  form  of  knowledge 
guides  the  actions  of  the  emperor  moth,  the  excavations  of 
the  grub  of  the  stag-beetle  in  proportion  to  its  jaws  which 
are  yet  to  be,  or  the  actions  of  the  beetle  sitaris.  Intelli- 
gence, therefore,  is  a  quite  unsatisfactory  explanation  of  the 
nature  of  the  instinctive  faculty.  Not  less  unreasonable  is 
Condillac's  hypothesis  that  instinct  is  the  result  of  the  ex- 
perience of  the  individual  animal  which  exhibits  it.  It  is 
manifest  that  experience  could  never  lead  a  creature  to  per- 
form acts  with  reference  to  conditions  quite  different  from 
all  those  it  has  ever  had  any  experience  of.  Yet  such  are 
the  acts  of  the  insects  before  described,  and  the  human  in- 
fant is  certainly  not  less  destitute  of  experience. 

Another  explanation  was  offered  by  Lamarck,  who  de- 
clared instinct  to  be  "  habit  which  has  become  hereditary." 
Of  course,  this  implies,  as  all  Lamarckism  necessarily  im- 

1  See  ante,  pp.  128-130. 


180  THE  GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

plies,  that  acquired  habits  may  become  hereditary;  but 
granted,  for  argument's  sake,  that  such  is  the  case,  there 
remains  a  radical  difference  between  instinct  and  habit. 
"  Habit  "  enables  an  agent  to  repeat  with  facility  and  pre- 
cision an  act  which  has  been  done  before;  but  "  instinct  " 
determines  with  precision  the  first  performance  of  the  act. 

It  is  impossible  to  believe  that  any  of  the  progenitors  of 
an  infant  acquired  a  habit  of  sucking,  or  that  the  insects 
before  referred  to  acquired  a  habit  of  performing  their 
purposive  actions  unless  they  were  compelled  by  their 
organisation  so  to  do,  in  which  case  they  would  already 
be  instinctive. 

But  an  attempt  has  also  been  made  to  explain  instinctive 
action  as  "  lapsed  intelligence  " — as  consisting  of  acts  which 
were  once  performed  with  deliberate  purpose,  but  which 
are  now  carried  on  without  advertence  by  unconscious  auto- 
matism. According  to  this  view,  instinctive  actions  would  be 
comparable  with  such  actions  as  playing,  without  attention, 
airs  to  learn  to  play  which  laborious,  conscious  atten- 
tion was  originally  required.  But  here  the  same  objections 
apply  as  can  be  urged  against  Montaigne's  hypothesis.  It 
may  well  be  asked,  could  an  adult  female  insect  be  supposed 
to  foresee  the  future  needs  of  her  first  progeny,  often  so 
totally  different  from  her  own  wants ;  or  recollect  her  past 
experiences  as  a  chrysalis  and  as  a  grub,  from  the  moment 
she  first  quitted  the  egg  ?  Not  less  absurd  would  it  be  to 
suppose  that  the  grub  of  a  male  stag-beetle  ever  deliberately 
reasoned  out  the  need  of  making  his  chrysalis  bed  twice  his 
own  size,  on  account  of  the  jaws  he  is  destined  to  grow,  but 
which  he  not  only  has  not,  but  has  never  seen  in  adult  in- 
dividuals of  his  own  species! 

Lastly,  the  late  Mr.  Darwin  has  tried  to  explain  instinct 
as  being  partly  due  to  intelligent,  purposive  action  which 
has  become  inherited,  partly  to  the  occurrence  of  accidental 


THE  PSYCHICAL  ANTECEDENTS  OF  SCIENCE        l8l 

variations  of  activity,  which  have  been  preserved  by  "  na- 
tural selection." 

As  to  the  former  part  of  the  explanation,  the  objections 
we  have  already  made  to  an  intelligent  origin  of  instinct 
may,  we  think,  suffice.  Moreover,  this  explanation  assumes 
the  truth  of  the  proposition  that  acquired  characters  may  be 
inherited.  As  to  the  other  part  of  the  explanation,  let  us 
look  at  one  or  two  noteworthy  instincts,  and  see  if  it  is 
credible  that  they  should  be  due  to  accidental,  haphazard 
changes  in  habits  already  acquired. 

Can  we  conceive  that  the  duck  which  feigns  an  injured 
wing  that  she  may  entice  a  dog  away  from  her  young  brood, 
can  ever  have  come  to  do  so  by  pure  accident  any  more 
than  by  deliberate  intention  ?  Again,  there  is  the  case  of 
the  wasp  sphex,  which  stings  spiders,  caterpillars,  and  grass- 
hoppers in  the  spots  where  their  nervous  ganglia  respectively 
lie,  and  so  paralyses  them.  According  to  the  doctrine  of 
"  natural  selection,"  either  an  ancestral  wasp  must  have  ac- 
cidentally stung  them  each  in  the  right  place,  and  so  the 
sphex  of  to-day  is  the  naturally  selected  descendant  of  a 
line  of  ancestors  which  inherited  this  lucky,  accidental 
tendency  to  sting  different  insects  differently,  but  always  in 
the  right  spots;  or  else  the  young  of  the  ancestral  sphex 
originally  fed  on  dead  food,  but  the  offspring  of  some  indi- 
viduals which  happened  to  sting  their  prey  so  as  to  paralyse 
but  not  kill  them,  were  better  nourished,  and  thus  the  habit 
grew. 

Finally,  there  is  the  curious  instinct  by  which  an  animal, 
when  an  enemy  approaches,  lies  quite  quiescent  and  appar- 
ently helpless — an  action  often  spoken  of  as  "  shamming 
death."  The  term  is  unfortunate,  because  the  disposition 
of  the  limbs  adopted  by  insects  which  thus  act  is  not  the 
same  as  that  which  their  limbs  assume  when  such  insects  are 
really  dead ;  while  some  species  are,  when  thus  acting,  less 


1 82  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

quiescent  than  others.  The  remarkable  circumstance,  how- 
ever, is  not  that  a  helpless  insect  should  assume  a  ppsture 
approximating  to  that  of  its  own  dead,  but  that  such  a 
creature,  instead  of  trying  to  escape,  should  adopt  a  mode 
of  procedure  utterly  hopeless,  unless  the  enemy's  attention 
be  thereby  effectually  eluded.  It  is  impossible  that  this  in- 
stinct could  have  been  gained  by  minute  steps,  for  if  the 
quiescence,  whether  absolutely  complete  or  not,  were  not 
sufficient  at  once  to  make  the  creature  elude  observation,  its 
destruction  would  be  only  the  more  fully  insured  by  such 
ineffectual  quiescence. 

We  have  hitherto  spoken  only  of  instinct  as  existing  in 
animals,  and  in  certain  human  actions  necessary  for  merely 
organic  life ;  but  there  are  a  variety  of  human  activities  of  a 
much  higher  kind  to  which  the  term  instinctive  can  hardly, 
it  would  seem,  be  positively  denied.  Such  a  special  higher 
instinct  is  that  which  impels  man  to  the  external  manifesta- 
tion by  voice  or  gesture  of  the  mental  abstractions  which 
his  intellect  spontaneously  forms,  but  which  does  not  exist 
(as  we  shall  see)  in  animals.  The  very  first  beginnings  of 
literature,  art,  science,  and  politics  may  also  be  considered 
as  activities  to  which  men  have  been  first  urged  by  an  im- 
pulse analogous  to  instinct — impulses  which,  on  the  whole 
and  broadly  considered,  have  augmented  the  well-being  and 
happiness  of  mankind. 

But  "  natural  selection  "  is  as  impotent  to  explain  man's 
lowest  psychical  powers  as  is  "  lapsed  intelligence."  Can 
it  be  for  a  moment  seriously  maintained  that  such  infantine 
actions  as  sucking,  deglutition,  defecation,  or  the  actions 
of  adolescence  tending  towards  reproduction,  ever  arose 
through  the  accidental  conservation  of  haphazard  variations 
of  habit  in  remote  ancestors  ?  If  not,  then  it  is  impossible 
to  account  for  such  actions  without  the  recognition  of  in- 
stinct as  a  distinct  faculty,  so  comparable  with  reflex  action 


THE  PSYCHICAL   ANTECEDENTS   OF  SCIENCE        183 

that  it  may  be  called,  as  we  termed  it  in  the  last  chapter,  a 
reflex 'action  of  the  individual  as  a  whole.  At  the  very  bot- 
tom of  the  scale  of  animal  life  we  find  it  present.  Animals 
utterly  devoid  of  a  nervous  system,  and  consisting  of  little 
more  than  minute  particles  of  living  jelly,  will  build  up  for 
themselves  an  external  armour  symmetrical  in  form  and 
most  artificial  in  construction. 

"  From  the  very  same  sandy  bottom  one  series  [of  such  minute 
creatures]  picks  up  the  coarser  quartz  grains,  cements  them 
together  with  phosphate  of  iron  secreted  from  its  own  substance, 
and  thus  constructs  a  flask-shaped  test,  having  a  short  neck  and 
a  single  large  orifice.  Another  picks  up  the  finest  grains  and  puts 
them  together  with  the  same  cement  into  perfectly  spherical  tests 
of  the  most  extraordinary  finish,  perforated  with  numerous  small 
pores  at  regular  intervals.  Another  selects  the  minutest  sand- 
grains  and  the  terminal  portions  of  sponge  spicules,  and  works 
these  up  together,  apparently  with  no  cement  at  all,  into  perfect 
spheres,  each  having  a  single  fissured  orifice."  (Carpenter's 
Mental  Physiology ',  p.  41.) 

However  far,  then,  we  may  put  back  the  beginnings  of 
instinct,  the  question  as  to  its  origin  ever  returns,  and  in- 
deed with  increased  importunity.  How  did  the  first  sentient 
creatures  come  to  take  and  swallow  their  food  ?  How  did 
they  first  come  to  fecundate  their  ova  or  suitably  to  deposit 
them  ?  How  did  they  first  effect  such  movements  as  might 
be  necessary  for  their  respiratory  processes  ?  Wherever 
such  phenomena  first  manifested  themselves  in  sentient 
organisms,  we  seem  compelled  therein  to  recognise  the 
manifest  presence  of  instinct  which  may  be  called  the 
faculty  provided  by  nature  for  bridging  over  the  interval 
which  exists  between  the  purely  vegetative  functions  (nutri- 
tion and  reproduction)  and  the  complex  activities  of  sentient, 
animal  life.  It  is  one  of  the  most  noteworthy  of  psychical 


1 84  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

powers,  and  its  distinct  and  full  recognition  in  all  its  bear- 
ings will  (as  we  shall  see  later  on)  be  found  to  have  an  im- 
portant bearing  on  problems  of  Epistemology. 

The  psychical  antecedents  of  science,  which  we  have 
passed  in  review  in  the  present  chapter,  consist  of  a  number 
of  intellectual  perceptions  of  facts  and  of  relations  between 
facts,  which  enable  us  to  understand  the  existence  and 
nature  of  psychical  activities  which  do  not  rise  into  con- 
sciousness. We  have  also  been  forced  somewhat  to  antici- 
pate matters  and  notice  some  of  our  higher  psychical  acts, 
such  as  ethical  conceptions,  inferences,  and  reminiscences, 
of  which  we  are  directly  conscious,  and  which  can  only  be 
scrutinised  by  reflection  with  the  aid  of  intellectual  memory. 
We  have  also  (as  before  said)  noted,  as  occurring  in  our- 
selves, various  acts  of  mere  sense-perception,  sensuous  ideas 
or  imaginations,  complexly  associated  with  sensation  and 
sensuous  memory,  which  may  give  occasion  to  sensuous  in- 
ference, with  feelings  of  pleasure  and  pain,  and  also  uncon- 
scious co-ordinations  of  movements  and  feelings  due  to  a 
power  of  consentience — our  lower  psychical  powers.  On 
turning  our  attention  to  the  world  of  mere  animal  life,  we 
saw  reason  to  believe  that  the  external  manifestations  made 
by  animals  are  susceptible  of  explanation  by  faculties  re- 
sembling our  lower  mental  powers,  without  calling  into  play 
the  action  of  intellect  and  consciousness. 

If  we  are  correct  in  our  estimate,  then  it  must  be  admitted 
that  there  is  a  distinction  of  kind  between  man  and  animals. 

But  we  believe  the  question  can  only  be  decided  by  a 
careful  consideration  of  the  true  value  and  significance  of 
that  obvious  distinction  between  the  lower  creatures  and 
ourselves  which  is  expressed  by  the  proposition,  "  Men 
speak,  but  animals  are  dumb."  Have  or  have  not  mere 
animals  the  power  of  expressing  mental  conceptions  by 
sounds  or  gestures  ? 


THE  PSYCHICAL   ANTECEDENTS   OF  SCIENCE        185 

This,  which  we  regard  as  the  crucial  question  of  a  distinc- 
tion of  kind  between  man  and  animals,  demands  separate 
and  somewhat  lengthy  consideration,  and  to  it  the  next 
chapter  will  be  devoted. 


CHAPTER  VII 

LANGUAGE  AND  SCIENCE 

IT  has  been  already  pointed  out  in  the  first  chapter  of  this 
book  1  that  the  simplest  sentence  cannot  be  rationally 
uttered  without  giving  expression  (for  the  most  part  quite 
unconsciously)  to  highly  abstract  ideas.  In  the  last  chapter 2 
we  also  noted  that  there  are  at  least  three  distinct  categories 
of  "  signs  " — the  merely  accidental,  the  emotional,  and  true 
signs  formally  intended  to  serve  as  such,  as  also  that  all  of 
such  signs  may  be  either  vocal  or  consist  of  some  bodily 
movements  or  gestures. 

Signs  which  are  merely  accidental  or  emotional  have  now, 
for  our  present  purpose,  to  be  carefully  distinguished  from 
signs  made  with  a  rational  purpose,  and,  therefore,  neces- 
sarily embodying  abstract  ideas.  These  merely  accidental 
and  emotional  signs  —  gestures  and  cries — often  produce 
sympathetic  effects  on  those  that  see  or  hear  them,  who 
may  be  thereby  excited  to  make  similar  gestures  and  cries, 
all  expressive  of  excited  feelings,  on  which  account  such 
signs  may  be  said  to  constitute  a  language  of  emotion. 

These  unintellectual  manifestations  may  be  divided  into 
three  kinds  or  forms  of  emotional  language. 

They  may  consist  of  (i)  inarticulate  sounds  only;  such  as 
shouts  and  cries  of  pain  or  joy  or  surprise ;  chuckles  of  satis- 
faction or  contempt ;  murmurs  of  affection,  as  of  a  mother 
to  her  infant,  etc. ;  (2)  articulate  sounds,  wherein  the 

1  See  ante,  p.  7.  2  See  ante,  pp.  150-151. 

186 


LANGUAGE   AND   SCIENCE  l8/ 

syllables  have  no  rational  meaning.  Amongst  such  must 
be  included  phrases  sometimes  repeated  by  idiots,  or  the 
verbal  exclamations  made  without  real  meaning  by  rational 
persons  during  strong  excitement — as  an  Italian  may  ex- 
claim per  Dio  Bacco  !  or  any  Englishman  may  invoke  damage 
to  his  own  eyes  and  limbs  or  those  of  his  neighbours ;  and 
(3)  gestures,  which  do  not  express  or  answer  to  rational  con- 
ceptions, but  are  merely  manifestations  of  feeling,  as,  e.  g., 
jumping,  dancing  about,  throwing  up  the  arms,  tossing  the 
hands,  waving  a  hat,  etc.,  etc. 

Very  different  from  all  these  is  the  spoken  language,  com- 
posed of  articulate  sounds,  as  used  in  ordinary  vocal  inter- 
course. In  order  to  see  this  distinction  clearly,  it  may  be 
well  to  analyse  a  very  simple  sentence,  such,  e.  g.,  as  "  That 
horse  is  running  away." 

The  word  "  that,"  as  thus  used,  has  no  signification  in 
and  by  itself,  none  without  reference  to  the  term  "  horse," 
which  it  qualifies,  dividing  and  separating  off  the  particular 
horse  referred  to  from  all  others,  and  so  limiting  and  deter- 
mining the  application  of  the  universal  abstract  term  ' '  horse' ' 
to  a  single  concrete  example,  for  the  word  "  that  "  conveys 
the  idea  of  an  absolutely  individual  unity — a  unity  which 
cannot  be  present  anywhere  else  except  in  the  one  concrete 
entity  referred  to  by  it. 

The  word  "  horse,"  on  the  other  hand,  is  a  conventional 
spoken,  or  written,  sign  of  the  idea  "  horse,"  and  is  a  uni- 
versal l  abstract  term,  applicable,  over  and  above  the  par- 
ticular horse  which  is  running  away,  to  every  other  actual  or 
possible  animal  of  the  kind  thus  denominated.  It  denotes 
no  single  subsisting  thing,  but  a  "  kind  "  or  whole  class  of 
things — a  unity  which  can  be  present  in  many  concrete  in- 
dividuals— many  horses — besides  the  particular  one  referred 
to  in  the  sentence. 

1  See  ante,  p.  6. 


1 88  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

The  word  "  is  "  denotes  the  most  wonderful,  important, 
and  most  abstract  of  all  ideas — the  idea  of  "  existence  "  or 
"  being."  It  is  an  idea  which  we  must  have  in  order  to 
perform  any  intellectual  act.  It  is  an  idea  which,  though 
not  itself  at  first  adverted  to,  makes  all  other  ideas  intelligible 
to  us,  as  light,  though  itself  unseen,  renders  everything  else 
visible  to  us.  But  we  shall  return  to  the  question  of  the 
significance  of  the  word  "  is,"  and,  later  on,  justify  fully 
what  is  here  said. 

The  term  "  running  away  "  is  one  which  denotes  another 
abstract  idea — namely,  an  abstract  "  quality  "  or  "  state  " 
of  some  object.  The  idea  is  one  evidently  applicable  to 
many  things,  such  as  all  mice,  dogs,  lizards — to  anything, 
in  fact,  which  can  "  run  away."  Yet  the  idea  itself "is  one 
single  idea. 

What  is  true  of  the  simple  sentence  thus  analysed  is  true 
of  all  sentences.  Thus  the  truth  is  plain  of  what  we  before 
said  about  a  savage,  for  all  human  language — except  the 
emotional  signs  before  distinguished — necessarily  implies 
and  gives  expression  to  a  number  of  abstract  ideas.  There- 
fore, wherever  language  exists  there  the  power  of  abstraction 
must  exist  also.  Therefore,  again,  thought  is  essentially 
anterior  to  speech,  and  the  latter  is  its  consequence.  It 
may  exist  where  the  faculty  of  speech  is  wanting,  and  may 
be  expressed  by  gestures,  which  are  also  often  made  use  of 
by  those  who  can  speak,  to  convey  a  knowledge  of  their 
thoughts  and  meaning  to  others.  Similarly,  inarticulate 
sounds  may  also  be  made  use  of  for  the  last-mentioned 
purpose. 

In  addition,  then,  to  the  three  forms  of  merely  emotional 
language  before  enumerated,  there  are  three  forms  of  intel- 
lectual language,  as  follows : 

(i)  Sounds  which  are  rational  but  not  articulate,  such  as 
the  inarticulate  ejaculations  by  which  we  sometimes  express 


LANGUAGE  AND   SCIENCE  189 

assent  to,  or  dissent  from,  given  propositions.  Such  in- 
articulate sounds  are  intellectual,  because  they  depend  on 
the  propositions  referred  to  having  been  understood,  and 
are  used  to  show  that  such  is  the  case  and  what  is  the  nature 
of  the  judgment  which  may  have  been  formed  about  them. 

(2)  Sounds  which  are  both  rational  and  articulate,  such  as 
are  used  in  conversation,  and  which  constitute  speech  or 
vocal  language  proper. 

(3)  Gestures  which  give  external  expression  to  internal 
rational  conceptions,  and  therefore  are  "  external,"  though 
not ' '  oral, ' '  manifestations  of  abstract  thought.     One  special 
manual  expression  of  such  abstract  thought  is  writing  or 
the  making  of  any  pictorial  signs. 

Thus  the  essence  of  language  as  ordinarily  understood — 
language  used  for  the  communication  of  ideas — is  an  intel- 
lectual activity.  This  is  necessarily  mental,  and  the  root  of 
speech  is  therefore  the  "  mental  word,"  or  verbum  mentale. 
The  natural  result  or  consequence  of  this  is  the  external 
expression,  or  speech — the  "  spoken  word,"  or  verbum  oris. 
This  is  the  normal  consequence,  but  it  can  be  replaced  by 
gesture  or  bodily  expression  to  verbum  corporis  sed  non  oris. 

It  is  evident  that  a  man  may  be  dumb  and  yet  possess  the 
mental  word,  though  he  is  accidentally  hindered  from  giving 
it  expression  by  the  spoken  word ;  but  he  can  still  do  so  by 
gestures  or  writing — the  verbum  corporis — as  long  as  he  is 
not  paralysed.  Should  he  become  so,  he  would  be  deprived 
of  all  means  of  external  expression,  while  he  might,  never- 
theless, still  be  in  possession  of  the  verbum  mentale. 

Now  we  believe  that  all  the  external  signs  of  which  mere 
animals  are  capable  are  explicable  as  forms  of  the  lower  of 
the  two  categories  of  human  language — the  language  of 
emotion.  We  are  also  convinced  that  many  forms  of  ex- 
ternal expression,  of  which  human  beings  incapable  of 
speech  are  reduced  to  make  use,  are  fully  and  truly  as  in- 


190  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

tellectual  as  is  the  articulate  language  ordinarily  used  and 
intended  to  convey  ideas.  To  this  question  of  the  distinc- 
tion between  emotional  and  intellectual  language,  then,  we 
will  now  directly  address  ourselves. 

It  has  been  contended  by  some  persons  that  there  is  no 
essential  difference  between  the  language  of  men  and  that 
of  animals,  and  this  contention  has  been  based  on  two  asser- 
tions: (i)  that  verbal  expressions  in  us  precede  correspond- 
ing conscious  mental  conceptions,  and  (2)  that  brutes  by 
sounds  and  gestures  can  express  ideas  and  so  actually  con- 
vey a  knowledge  of  the  facts  to  which  their  ideas  relate. 

-No  one  has  advocated  these  views  more  zealously  than 
the  late  Professor  Romanes,1  who,  as  an  exceptionally  can- 
did and  careful  writer,  may  well  serve  as  the  best  type  of 
the  school  to  which  he  belonged. 

He  brings  forward  many  instances  which  he  considers 
justify  his  opinion.  Thus  he  tells  us  of  a  wasp,  which,  on 
finding  a  store  of  honey,  returned  to  the  nest,  and  in  a  short 
time  brought  off  a  hundred  other  wasps.  But  surely  there 
is  no  need  to  suppose  that  here  any  intellectual  communi- 
cation had  been  made,  but  merely  an  instinctive  com- 
munication inducing  an  instinctive  response.  Unfortunately, 
superior  as  Mr.  Romanes  was  to  most  of  the  advocates  of 
animal  rationality,  some  of  the  tales  he  allows  himself  to 
quote  plainly  show  how  saturated  with  prejudice  their  nar- 
rators must  have  been.  Thus,  respecting  some  South 
American  ants,  Mr.  Belt  is  quoted  as  saying:  "  I  noticed  a 
sort  of  assembly  of  about  a  dozen  individuals  that  appeared 
to  be  in  consultation.  Suddenly  one  ant  left  the  conclave, 
and  ran  with  great  speed  up  the  perpendicular  face  of  the 
cutting  without  stopping."  Shortly  "  information  was 
communicated  to  the  ants  below,  and  a  dense  column  rushed 
up  in  search  of  prey." 

1  In  his  book,  entitled  Mental  Evolution  in  Man,  before  referred  to. 


LANGUAGE  AND   SCIENCE  IQI 

We  have  quoted  this  passage  as  a  typical  example  of 
increasing  unconscious  exaggeration.  A  dozen  ants  in 
proximity  are  first  called  "  a  sort  of  assembly."  Now  any 
creatures  which  happen  to  come  together  in  close  proximity 
may,  in  a  certain  vague  sense,  be  said  to  assemble ;  but  the 
word  "  assembly  "  implies  more  than  that.  This  implica- 
tion is  further  intensified  by  the  declaration  that  the  ants 
"  appeared  to  be  in  consultation,"  though  no  fact  in  addi- 
tion to  physical  proximity  is  given  as  justifying  such  a 
purely  fanciful  interpretation.  Finally,  the  implication  is 
driven  home  by  calling  these  physically  approximated  ants 
"  a  conclave."  If  those  who  narrate  things  of  this  kind 
would  content  themselves  with  accurately  describing  the 
facts  they  witness,  the  gain  would  be  great  indeed. 

Such  an  account  has  been  given  l  by  one  careful  observer, 
Mr.  G.  Larden.  He  tells  us  of  a  small  South  American 
species  of  ant  which  makes  a  large  nest  underground  with  a 
network  of  paths  converging  to  the  nest. 

"  These  paths,"  he  says,  "  are  of  all  lengths,  from  ten  yards  up 
to  one  hundred  yards.  As  a  general  rule,  one  may  say  that 
streams  of  ants,  carrying  leaves,  buds,  flowers,  seeds,  and  other 
valuable  odds  and  ends,  are  always  moving  towards  the  nest,  while 
empty-mouthed  ants  are  meeting  and  passing  them  on  their  out- 
ward journey  to  the  foraging  grounds." 

He  then  tried  the  experiment  of  turning  some  of  these  laden 
home-going  carriers  round,  when  they  had  nearly  reached 
home. 

"  The  general  conclusion  I  came  to,"  he  continues,  "  was  that 
these  ants  did  not  then  understand  in  what  direction  the  nest  lay, 
nor  did  they  (as  far  as  I  could  see)  draw  any  conclusions  from  the 
fact  that  they  now  met  the  stream  of  carriers  with  which  they  had 

1  In  Nature  for  May  29,  1890,  p.  115. 


IQ2  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

previously  been  travelling.  Thus,  one  ant  carrying  a  (relatively) 
huge  burden  I  reversed  in  direction  when  already  near  the  nest. 
I  then  followed  it  for  about  eight  yards  (or  about  twenty  minutes 
of  time  as  far  as  I  can  say)  in  its  mistaken  reversed  course  away 
from  the  nest.  Though  it  met  and  collided  with  quantities  of 
burdened  ants,  and  was  passed  in  the  same  direction  as  its  own 
by  unburdened  ants  only,  it  did  not  seem  to  take  the  hint.  Its 
final  return  home  was  the  result  of  accident,  as  far  as  I  could  tell 
— it  having  got  up  the  right  way  round  after  a  severe  fall.  .  .  . 
I  dug  a  hole  in  one  of  the  paths  on  several  occasions.  The  hole 
was  small,  and  it  was  easy,  though  not  so  convenient,  to  go  round 
by  the  side  over  the  very  short  grass.  Nevertheless,  it  required 
the  falling  of  very  many  ants  into  the  hole,  and  the  leaving  of 
quite  a  pile  of  leaves  there,  before  the  stream  learned  to  pass 
about  one  inch  to  one  or  the  other  side,  and  so  to  avoid  the  pit- 
fall. Some  ants  even  turned  back  ;  and  I  left  them  carrying 
their  burdens  back  to  the  foraging  grounds  again." 

This  statement  quite  accords  with  some  observations  we 
have  ourselves  made. 

As  to  higher  animals  and  the  asserted  use  by  them  of 
gesture  language,  Mr.  Romanes  cites l  a  case  recorded  by 
James  Forbes,  F.R.S.,  of  a  male  monkey,  which  was  said 
to  have  begged  back  the  body  of  a  female  which  had  just 
been  shot:  "  The  animal  came  to  the  door  of  the  tent,  and, 
finding  threats  of  no  avail,  began  a  lamentable  moaning, 
and  by  the  most  expressive  gestures  seemed  to  beg  for  the 
dead  body.  It  was  given  to  him ;  he  took  it  sorrowfully  in 
his  arms  and  bore  it  away  to  his  expecting  companions." 
One  would  like  to  know  what  the  gestures  were.  Nothing 
less  than  the  actions  essentially  like  those  used  in  our  ballets 
would  justify  their  being  called  "  most  expressive." 

A  Captain  Johnson  is  also  cited  as  having  seen  a  monkey 
which  he  had  wounded  run  down  a  tree  towards  him.  He 

1  Op.  cit.,  p.  100. 


LANGUAGE   AND   SCIENCE  IQ3 

then  "  stopped  suddenly,  and  coolly  put  his  paw  to  the  part 
wounded  covered  with  blood,  and  held  it  out  for  me  to  see." 
Finally,  Sir  William  Hoste  is  referred  to  as  having  re- 
corded that 

"  one  of  his  officers  coming  home  after  a  long  day's  shooting,  saw 
a  female  monkey  running  along  the  rocks  with  her  young  one  in 
her  arms.  He  immediately  fired  and  the  animal  fell.  On  his 
coming  up  she  grasped  her  little  one  close  to  her  breast,  and  with 
her  other  hand  pointed  to  the  wound  which  the  ball  had  made, 
and  which  had  entered  above  her  breast.  Dipping  her  finger  in 
the  blood  and  holding  it  up,  she  seemed  to  reproach  him  with 
having  been  the  cause  of  her  pain,  and  also  that  of  the  young 
one,  to  which  she  frequently  pointed." 

Now,  that  these  narratives  repose  on  a  basis  of  truth  is 
not  to  be  doubted,  neither  is  the  perfect  good  faith  of  the 
narrators  to  be  suspected.  That  the  mother  ape  hugged 
her  young  one,  that  the  wounded  animals  made  gestures 
due  to  anger,  pain,  terror,  or  distress,  is  not  to  be  ques- 
tioned. But  it  is  only  too  evident  that  the  kind-hearted 
sportsmen  read,  in  such  movements,  motives  and  meanings 
due  to  their  own  fertile  imaginations.  Such  mistaken  in- 
ferences are  not  to  be  wondered  at  on  the  part  of  military 
men,  who  may  well  have  been  unskilled  in  scientific  observa- 
tion, and  little  read  in  either  psychology  or  philosophy. 

But  a  very  curious  tale  is  told  by  Mr.  Romanes  himself 
with  respect  to  an  American  monkey  of  his,  which  had 
found  out  the  way  to  unscrew  the  handle  of  that  object 
which  is  often  so  much  too  easily  unscrewed,  namely,  a 
hearth-brush.  He  delighted  in  screwing  it  on  and  off,  and 
soon  began  to  unscrew  all  the  unscrewable  articles  so  as  to 
become  a  nuisance  to  the  household.  This  showed  that 
the  monkey,  we  are  told,1  had  "  discovered  the  mechanical 

1  Op.  tit.,  p.  61. 
13 


IQ4  THE  GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

principle  of  the  screw  " — an  "  intelligent  recognition  of  a 
principle  discovered  by  the  most  unwearying  perseverance 
in  the  way  of  experiment  "(!).  But  to  do  what  this 
monkey  did,  needed  as  little  the  "  intelligent  recognition  of 
a  principle  "  as  any  white  mouse  needed  such  knowledge  to 
learn  to  make  rotating  objects  go  round,  or  as  a  canary, 
which  had  learnt  to  pull  up  a  small  vessel  of  water  suspended 
by  a  thread,  need  apprehend  "  principles"  of  mechanics 
and  hydrostatics.  We  are  also  informed  that  the  monkey, 
"  however  often  he  was  disappointed  at  the  beginning  [of 
the  screwing  process],  never  was  induced  to  try  turning  the 
handle  the  other  way;  he  always  screwed  from  right  to 
left."  This  would  seem  to  show  (on  Mr.  Romanes's  method 
of  interpretation)  that  the  monkey  had  much  greater  intel- 
ligence than  is  possessed  by  many  human  beings,  who  often 
do  try  screwing  the  wrong  way  when  their  efforts  to  screw 
the  right  way  have  not  succeeded. 

But  it  is  yet  further  asserted  that  the  animal,  having  dis- 
covered this  "  mechanical  principle,  proceeded  forthwith  to 
generalise  "  concerning  the  objects  thus  mischievously  un- 
screwed, screwed,  and  unscrewed  again.  We  are  gravely 
assured,  as  to  the  separated  parts,  that  the  monkey  "  was 
by  no  means  careful  always  to  replace  them  ' ' — as  if  it  was 
ever  careful  so  to  do,  and  as  if  those  which  were  replaced, 
were  replaced  by  a  sort  of  quasi-ethical  deliberate  intention. 

With  respect  to  apes,  we  have  always  to  be  on  our  guard 
against  the  deceptive  effects  of  their  tricks  and  ways,  due  to 
the  close  resemblance  which  exists  between  their  bodily 
frame  and  our  own.  On  this  account,  if  two  actions  essen- 
tially similar  are  done,  one  by  a  pig  and  the  other  by  an  ape, 
the  latter  would  necessarily  appear  in  our  eyes  to  be  far 
more  of  a  "  human  "  action. 

This  may,  in  fact,  account  for  the  curious  overestimate 
above  cited  of  the  action  of  the  American  monkey  so  fond 


LANGUAGE  AND   SCIENCE  IQ5 

of  screws.  But  other  instances  are  given  still  more  open  to 
criticism. 

The  climax  of  absurdity,  however,  is  attained  in  an  anec- 
dote of  a  talking  bird,1  which  our  esteem  and  regard  for  the 
late  Professor  Romanes  do  not  allow  us  here  to  more  than 
refer  to. 

The  vast  difference  between  the  emotional  gesture- 
language  of  animals  and  the  intellectual  gestures  of  men  is 
apparent,  while  those  of  infants  show  that  mental  concep- 
tions may  precede  verbal  expressions.  Colonel  Mallery * 
has  remarked  that 

"  the  wishes  and  emotions  of  very  young  children  are  conveyed 
in  a  small  number  of  sounds,  but  in  a  great  variety  of  gestures 
and  facial  expressions.  A  child's  gestures  are  intelligent  long  in 
advance  of  speech,  although  very  early  and  persistent  attempts 
are  made  to  give  it  instruction  in  the  latter,  but  none  in  the 
former,  from  the  time  when  it  begins  risu  cognoscere  matrem.  It 
learns  .words  only  as  they  are  taught,  and  learns  them  through 
the  medium  of  signs  which  are  not  expressly  taught.  Long 
after  familiarity  with  speech,  it  consults  the  gestures  and  facial 
expressions  of  its  parents  and  nurses,  as  if  seeking  thus  to  trans- 
late and  explain  words.  .  .  .  The  insane  understand  and 
obey  gestures  when  they  have  no  knowledge  whatever  of  words. 
.  .  .  Sufferers  from  aphasia  continue  to  use  appropriate  gest- 
ures." 

The  same  authority  also  tells  us  that  Indians  from  the 
West,  who  have  been  brought  into  the  Eastern  States, 

"  have  often  succeeded  in  holding  intercourse,  by  means  of  their 
invention  and  application  of  principles  in  what  may  be  called  the 
voiceless  mother  utterance,  with  white  deaf-mutes,  who  surely 

1  See  op,  cit.,  p.  190. 

2  In  his  memoir  on  "  Sign -language  among  the  North  American  Indians," 
First  A  nnual  Report  of  the  Bureau  of  Ethnology.     Washington ,  1 88 1 . 


196  THE    GROUNDWORK  OF   SCIENCE 

have  no  semiotic  code  more  nearly  connected  with  that  attributed 
to  the  Indians  than  is  derived  from  their  common  humanity. 
They  showed  the  greatest  pleasure  in  meeting  deaf-mutes,  pre- 
cisely as  travellers  in  a  foreign  country  are  rejoiced  to  meet 
persons  speaking  their  language." 

Mr.  Romanes  himself  has  given  1  a  very  interesting  ac- 
count of  a  conversation  held  between  two  Indians  of  differ- 
ent races,  and  carried  on  exclusively  by  gestures,  beginning 
as  follows : 

4  Which  of  the  north-eastern  tribes  is  yours  ?  " 

"  Mountain  river  men." 

'*  How  many  days  from  mountain  river  ?  " 

"  Moon  new  and  full  three  times,"  etc. 

A  deaf-mute  from  Washington  is  said  3  to  have  related  to 
some  Indians,  that 

"  when  he  was  a  boy  he  went  to  a  melon  field,  tapped  several 
melons,  finding  them  to  be  green  or  unripe  ;  finally  reaching  a 
good  one,  he  took  a  knife,  cut  a  slice  and  ate  it.  A  man  made 
his  appearance  on  horseback,  entered  the  path  on  foot,  found  the 
cut  melon,  and,  detecting  the  thief,  threw  the  melon  towards  him, 
hitting  him  in  the  back,  whereupon  he  ran  away  crying.  The 
man  mounted,  and  rode  off  in  the  opposite  direction." 

Another  story  of  the  kind,  also  told  in  gesture-language 
only,  was  much  appreciated  by  the  Indians,  and  completely 
understood. 

A  truly  wonderful  amount  of  abstract  thought  was  thus 
expressed  and  apprehended  by  means  of  gesture  only.  And 
there  is  no  evidence  that  speech  generated  or  facilitated 
gesture,  but  rather  the  contrary,  while  it  is  very  evident 
amongst  many  peoples — notably  in  the  more  southern  part 
of  Europe — how  very  much  gesture  aids  and  enforces  the 

1  Op.  «'/.,  p.  108.  2  Ibid.,  p.  112. 


LANGUAGE  AND   SCIENCE  IQ/ 

meaning  of  speech.  No  doubt  speech  has  greatly,  must 
have  greatly,  aided  the  elaboration  of  ideas,  and  so  enriched 
the  mental  pabulum  for  gesture-language ;  but  it  can  have 
had  no  tendency  to  develop  gesture-language  itself,  but 
rather  the  contrary,  speech  being  so  rapid  and  serviceable  an 
agent  compared  with  gesture  only. 

Deaf-mutes  possessing  an  extraordinary  manual  dexterity 
in  signifying  their  ideas,  could  never  have  inherited  it  from 
speaking  ancestors,  while  they  may  well  be  supposed  to  have 
inherited  the  structure  common  to  those  ancestors  as  the 
physical  means  of  speech.  The  nervous  conditions  relating 
to  abundant  gesticulation,  on  the  other  hand,  must  have 
been  going  through  a  process  of  atrophy  for  ages  during  all 
the  many  generations  of  these  loquacious  ancestors  of  such 
deaf-mutes.  The  latter  also  seem  to  have  a  special  construc- 
tion of  their  own  in  their  gesture  sentences — a  mode  of  con- 
struction which  could  never  have  been  inherited  from  their 
speaking  forefathers. 

This  special  and  peculiar  construction  is  stated  '  by  Mr. 
Romanes  to  be  uniform  in  different  countries.  The  deaf- 
mutes  "  do  not  say  '  black  horse,'  but  '  horse  black  ' ;  not 
'  bring  a  black  hat/  but  '  hat  black  bring';  not  '  I  am 
hungry,  give  me  bread,'  but  '  hungry  me,  bread  give.'  ' 
But  such  modes  of  construction  answer  every  practical  pur- 
pose, and  are  as  distinctly  intellectual  as  any  others. 

The  innate  intellectuality  of,  and  voluntary  purposive 
expression  of  ideas  by,  gesture  is  made  specially  clear  in 
the  following  statement,2  which  also  shows  how  the  deaf  and 
dumb  express  first  that  idea  which  they  are  most  anxious  to 
impress  on  those  they  address : 

"  If  a  boy  had  struck  another  boy,  and  the  injured  party  came 
to  tell  us,  if  he  was  desirous  to  acquaint  us  with  the  idea  that  a 

1  Op.  at.,  p.   114.  *  Ibid.,  p.  115. 


198  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

particular  boy  did  it,  he  would  point  to  the  boy  first.  But  if  he 
was  anxious  to  draw  attention  to  his  own  suffering  rather  than  to 
the  person  by  whom  it  was  caused,  he  would  point  to  himself  and 
make  the  act  of  striking,  and  then  point  to  the  boy." 

The  celebrated  Abbe"  Sicard  asked  a  deaf  and  dumb  pupil, 
"  Who  made  God  ?  "  The  answer  he  received  is  very  re- 
markable from  the  highly  abstract  conception  which  it 
showed  was  present  in  the  pupil's  mind.  His  answer  was, 
44  God  made  nothing,"  meaning  thereby  that  nothing  what- 
ever made  God — i.  e.,  that  God  was  not  made  by  anything, 
but  was  self-subsisting. 

The  deaf  and  dumb  express  a  conjunctive  sentence  by  an 
alternate  contrast.  Thus  the  sentence  "  I  must  love  and 
honour  my  teacher  "  would  be  expressed  thus,  "  Teacher  I 
beat,  deceive,  scold,  no! — I  love,  honour,  yes!"  This  is 
logical  enough  in  spite  of  being  a  roundabout  mode  of 
expression. 

Colonel  Mallery's  evidence  is  invaluable.  His  account 
of  such  an  enunciation  of  the  parable  of  the  prodigal  son  by 
signs  is  an  example  of  an  extremely  elaborated  instance  of 
the  use  of  gesture-language.  It  is  as  follows : 

"  Once  man  one,  sons  two.  Son  younger  say,  Father  property 
your  divide  :  part  my  me  give.  Father  so.  Son  each,  part  his 
give.  Days  few  after,  son  younger  money  all  take,  country  far 
go,  money  spend,  wine  drink,  food  nice  eat.  Money  by-and-bye 
gone  all.  Country  everywhere  food  little.  Son  hungry  very. 
Go  seek  man  any,  me  hire.  Gentleman  meet.  Gentleman  son 
send  field  swine  feed.  Son  swine  husks  eat,  see — self  husks  eat 
want — cannot — husks  him  give  nobody.  Son  thinks,  say,  father 
my,  servants  many,  bread  enough,  part  give  away  can — I  none — 
starve,  die.  I  decide  :  Father  I  go  to,  say  I  had,  God  disobey, 
you  disobey — name  my  hereafter  son  no — I  unworthy.  But 
father  servants  call,  command  robe  best  bring,  son  put  on,  ring 


LANGUAGE  AND   SCIENCE  199 

finger  put  on,  shoes  feet  put  on,  calf  fat  bring,  kill.  We  all  eat, 
merry,  why  ?  Son  this  formerly  dead,  now  alive  :  formerly  lost, 
now  found  :  rejoice." 

Even  that  most  abstract  of  all  ideas,  the  idea  of  "  being  " 
or  "  existence,"  can  be  expressed  by  deaf-mutes.  Colonel 
Mallery  tells  us  that  the  sign  they  use  to  express  this  is 
stretching  the  arms  and  hands  forward,  and  then  adding  the 
sign  of  affirmation." 

The  idea  of  "  equality  "  they  can  also  signify  by  extend- 
ing the  index  fingers  side  by  side — asL  when  repeating  the 
expression  in  the  Lord's  Prayer,  "  As  in  heaven."  We 
see,  then,  how  intellectual  conceptions  may  be  expressed, 
and  distinct  statements  as  to  fact  made — the  copula  remain- 
ing latent  and  implicit — by  this  wonderful  language  of 
gesture.  By  its  means  the  most  lofty  abstractions  can  be 
both  mentally  entertained  and  externally  expressed.  Church 
services  for  deaf  congregations  are  carried  out  by  gesture 
only. 

That  born  mutes,  without  any  teaching,  do  sometimes 
make  vocal  sounds  more  or  less  articulate  is  an  unquestioned 
fact,  and  though  we  will  not  assert,  we  certainly  suspect, 
the  existence  in  man  of  an  instinctive  tendency  to  produce 
such  sounds  and  to  signify  meaning  by  gesture.  When 
once  anyone  has  a  meaning  to  convey,  he  must,  if  he  can 
succeed  in  conveying  it,  convey  it  by  some  visible,  audible, 
or  tactile  sign.  The  employment  of  any  one  means  must 
be  due  to  an  internal  impulse.  How  else  could  the  language 
of  gesture  have  arisen  ? 

Therefore,  if  there  ever  was  such  a  thing  as  a  human  com- 
munity entirely  dumb,  a  natural  and  instinctive  language  of 
gesture  would,  we  are  persuaded,  be  evolved  by  it.  We  are 
thus  persuaded,  not  only  on  a  priori  grounds,  but  also  from 
the  evidence  afforded  by  such  extraordinary  examples  of  de- 


200  THE  GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

fective  existence  as  that  of  Laura  Bridgman  and  the  still 
more  striking  case  of  Martha  Obrecht.  The  former  is  a 
well-known  case  of  a  girl  who  was  blind  as  well  as  deaf, 
and  had  become  so  afflicted  when  too  young  to  have  retained 
any  recollection  of  seeing  or  hearing.  Yet  she  learned  to 
apprehend  abstract  relations  and  qualities,  and  to  read  and 
write. 

Martha  Obrecht  *  was  deaf,  dumb,  and  blind,  and  was 
confided  to  the  care  of  the  nuns  at  a  convent  at  Larnay 
(Poictiers)  when  eight  yeafs  old.  Then,  by  intelligent  and 
patient  instruction,  she  was  enabled  gradually  to  acquire 
the  power  of  apprehending  and  expressing  intellectual  con- 
ceptions, and  highly  abstract  and  lofty  ideas,  with  distinct 
and  clear  moral  and  religious  notions.  She  was  also  taught 
not  only  to  read  but  to  write  perfectly  well. 

When  first  received  she  was  a  living,  almost  inert,  mass, 
with  no  means  of  communicating  with  her  fellow-creatures, 
though  she  emitted  cries  and  made  certain  movements  in 
response  to  impressions  she  received.  The  first  thing  was 
to  give  her  some  means  of  communication,  and  this  was 
done  by  making  her  touch  different  objects,  and  then  touch- 
ing her  in  different  ways  appropriate  to  each  object,  so  that 
each  mode  of  touching  became  a  sign  to  her  of  that  object. 
Thus,  when  a  piece  of  bread  was  given  her,  she  was  made, 
as  it  were,  to  cut  her  left  hand  with  her  right.  Very  soon 
when  hungry  she  began  to  make  that  sign  herself.  When 
she  did  anything  wrong  she  was  slightly  pushed  away,  and 
thus  she  soon  learnt  to  push  away  from  her  things  she  did 
not  like ;  and  so  little  by  little  from  one  point  to  another  her 
intellectual  development  was  slowly  completed. 

It  may  be,  as  it  has  been,  objected  to  these  facts,  that  they 
show  no  more  than  the  influence  on  an  infant  of  a  long  line 

1  See  Apologie  Scientijique,  by  Canon  F.  Duilhe  de  Saint-Projet,  pp.  374-387. 
Toulouse,  1885. 


LANGUAGE  AND    SCIENCE  2OI 

of  ancestors  all  capable  of  speech.  But,  as  we  before  re- 
marked, there  could  have  been  no  inherited  nervous  structure 
and  conditions  specially  related  to  gesture-language.  Yet 
it  was  exclusively  by  gesture-language  that  the  latent  intel- 
ligence of  Martha  Obrecht  was  developed. 

Thus  thought  is  evidently  the  cause,  and  not  the  effect, 
of  language. 

We  have  said  that  the  idea  of  "  being  "  or  "  existence  " 
can  be  expressed  by  gesture,  and  also  that  the  copula  is 
habitually  implied  and  latent  in  gesture-language.  But  its 
existence  is,  of  course,  no  less  effectively  real  because  it  is 
thus  latent.  In  every  gesture  statement,  as  in  every  orally 
expressed  proposition,  the  predication  of  existence  is  most 
important.  Its  importance  has  been  disputed  on  the  ground 
that  "  merely  to  say  a  thing  is,  is  to  form  the  most  barren 
(least  significant)  judgment  about  it."  Now,  of  course,  it 
is  manifest  that  so  to  affirm  is  to  give  the  minimum  of  in- 
formation about  any  object;  but  though  it  tells  us  little  as 
regards  extent  of  information,  it  yet  tells  us  a  truth  of  the 
most  profound  and  intensely  important  kind.  The  reader 
will  readily  appreciate  how  much  more  important  to  him  is 
his  "  existence  "  than  a  variety  of  other  properties  with 
which  he  would  be  much  less  unwilling  to  part. 

Having,  we  trust,  to  our  reader's  satisfaction,  shown  the 
essential  rationality  which  may  be  possessed  by  deaf-mutes, 
we  will  next  point  out  what  we  regard  as  the  essential, 
though  latent,  intellectuality  of  infants.  We  contend  that 
evidence  shows  intellect  to  be  potentially  present,  i.  e.y  that 
the  normal  conditions  being  supplied,  it  will  infallibly  come 
to  show  itself  as  actually  present.  On  the  other  hand,  no 
evidence  plainly  indicates  that  it  is  potentially  present  in 
brutes,  and  that  changes  of  mere  environment  can  make  it 
actual.  We  are,  as  we  said  before,  perfectly  willing  to 
recognise  the  intellectuality  of  animals  as  soon  as  we  can 


202  THE  GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

obtain  any  evidence  thereof.  All  evidence  we  have  been 
able  to  obtain,  however,  points,  we  think,  the  other  way. 

But  Professor  Romanes  seemed  extraordinarily  blind  to 
the  intellectuality  of  even  his  own  children.  Thus  we  read  1 
that  a  daughter  of  his,  aged  rather  more  than  eighteen 
months,  called  first  her  brother,  and  then  other  children, 
"  ilda,"  and  then  whenever  she  came  upon  a  representation 
of  a  sheep  with  lambs,  she  would  point  to  the  sheep  and 
say  mama — ha,  white  of  the  lambs  she  would  say  ilda — ba. 
Nevertheless,  he  affirms  that  in  her  case  formal  predication 
had  not  begun.  On  the  other  hand,  we  regard  these  utter- 
ances of  the  child  as  distinctly  intelligent  predications. 

Similarly,  he  denies  that  a  child  two  years  old,  who  says 
dit  ki  (sister  is  crying)  makes  an  intellectual  assertion.  But 
in  saying  those  two  words  the  child  really  enunciates  a  true 
judgment  composed  of  two  concepts  and  an  implied  copula. 
If  such  were  not  the  case,  if  the  child  did  not  consciously 
perceive  both  his  sister  and  her  crying  condition,  the  state- 
ment would  be  mere  meaningless  babble.  But,  of  course, 
the  child  does  not  advert  to  such  psychical  facts  and  recog- 
nise what  it  says  with  reflex  consciousness.  Such  a  mental 
act  is  but  rarely  performed  even  by  an  adult. 

But  much  simpler,  merely  monosyllabic,  utterances  may 
be  true  implicit  judgments.  Thus  when  a  child  on  seeing 
a  dog  looks  up  at  her  nurse  and,  pointing,  says  "  bow- 
wow," or  taking  food  exclaims  "  ot  "  (hot),  or  letting  fall  a 
toy  says  "  dow  "  (down),  it  may  thereby  express  what  is 
truly  a  judgment  in  each  case.  For  in  what  respect  does 
the  utterance  of  the  monosyllable  "  ot  "  differ  from  "  dit 
ki  "  ?  It  merely  differs  in  the  emission  of  two  sounds  in- 
stead of  one.  "  Ot  "  really  means  as  much  as  do  the  two 
sounds  "  dit  ki  " — namely,  that  the  child's  food  is  hot.  In 
one  case  the  meaning  of  a  sentence  is  conveyed  by  two 
1  Op,  dt.,  p.  218. 


LANGUAGE  AND   SCIENCE  203 

i 

articulate  sounds,  and  in  the  other  by  the  utterance  of  a 
monosyllable.  The  latter  mode  is  in  no  way  inferior  except 
that  it  seems  incapable  of  being  adapted  to  express  the  com- 
plex ideas  of  later  life.  But  very  frequently  the  monosyl- 
labic mode  is  made  use  of  by  adults  and  fully  understood. 
Suppose  some  men  are  watching,  at  a  distance,  certain  birds 
indistinctly  seen,  and  that  they  are  trying  to  make  out  what 
they  really  are.  When  one  man,  having  made  sure,  cries 
out  "Grouse  !  "  it  is  as  true  and  clear  an  expression  of  a  judg- 
ment as  would  be  the  four  words,  "  Those  birds  are  grouse." 
If  it  were  only  possible  to  follow  out  that  mode  without  the 
danger  of  confusion,  then  the  use  of  monosyllables  to  express 
whole  sentences,  instead  of  being  inferior,  would  be  the  very 
highest  ideal  of  language.  This  reflection  brings  us  natur- 
ally to  the  consideration  of  different  forms  of  language  and 
its  possible  origin.  But  there  is  one  form  of  language  which 
exists,  abundantly  in  low  as  well  as  in  higher  races  of  man- 
kind, and  that  is  metaphorical  language.  But  what  is 
metaphor,  and  what  sort  of  being  must  that  have  been 
which  first  employed  it  ? 

Had  not  the  intellect  the  power  of  apprehending,  through 
the  senses,  and  expressing,  by  bodily  signs,  what  is  beyond 
the  reach  of  mere  sense-perception,  metaphor  would  not  and 
could  not  exist.  Neither  could  it  exist  if  thought  was  the 
mere  outcome  of  language,  and  followed  it,  instead  of  the 
opposite.  It  is  precisely  because  speech  is  too  narrow  for 
thought,  and  because  words  are  too  few  adequately  to  make 
known  the  ideas  of  the  mind,  that  metaphor  exists.  It  is 
interesting  also  to  note  that  figurative,  metaphorical  lan- 
guage is  natural,  and  especially  abundant  amongst  various 
savage  and  semi-savage  tribes.  Few  things  would  be  more 
unwise  than  to  take  the  plainest  and  most  material  mean- 
ings of  primitive  words  as  being  necessarily  their  only 
meanings.  Figure  or  metaphor  has  been  occasioned  by 


2O4  THE  GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

poverty  and  sterility  of  visible  and  audible  signs,  but  their 
cause  is  the  wealth  and  fruitfulness  of  thought.  Probably 
many  primitive  terms  had  double  meanings  from  the  first. 

As  Carlyle  has  said,  "  An  unmetaphorical  style  you  shall 
seek  in  vain,  for  is  not  ypur  very  attention  a  stretching  to  ?  " 
The  sensuous  element  in  language  is  but  a  necessary  conse- 
quence of  our  animal  nature,  and  the  necessity  of  phantas- 
mata  of  the  imagination  as  supports  to  (as  before  said)  even 
our  most  abstract  thoughts.  It  does  not  follow  from  this 
that  thought  once  was  mere  sensation,  but,  on  the  contrary, 
it  manifests  the  wonderful  spontaneity  of  the  human  intel- 
lect, whence,  by  the  help  of  the  "  beggarly  elements  "  sup- 
plied by  the  senses,  the  loftiest  concepts  spontaneously 
spring  forth  like  Athene,  armed  with  the  sharp  spear  of 
intellectual  perception,  and  swathed  in  the  ample  mantle 
of  signs,  woven  of  the  warp  of  matter  and  the  woof  of 
thought. 

It  is  just  this  power  of  metaphor-making  which  most 
plainly  displays  to  us  the  intellect  in  its  creative  energy, 
giving  rise  to  new  external  expressions  for  freshly  arising 
internal  perceptions.  This  power  belongs  to  man  alone,  and 
no  one  even  pretends  that  any  brute  can  evolve  a  metaphor. 

It  is  ethical  propositions  especially  which  demonstrate  to 
us  that  a  higher  meaning  must  be  latent  in  terms  which  to 
some  persons  seem  merely  sensuous.  For  everyone  must 
admit  either  (i)  that  he  does  not  really  know  what  an  ethical 
proposition  means,  that  he  does  not  know  the  difference  be- 
tween right  and  wrong,  or  (2)  that  he  recognises  it  as  a  dis- 
tinction toto  ccelo  divergent  from  every  other,  and  one  which, 
as  before  pointed  out,1  could  have  had  none  but  an  ethical 
origin,  and  therefore  could  never  have  been  evolved  from 
the  sensuous  life  and  perceptions  of  mere  animals. 

As  folly  or  prejudice  makes  tales  of  animal  intelligence  so 

1  See  ante,  p.  166. 


LANGUAGE   AND   SCIENCE  2O$ 

often  quite  untrustworthy,  so  also  the  statements  as  to  the 
mental  defects  of  savages  are  hardly  less  so.  Love  of  the 
marvellous,  credulity,  exaggeration,  and,  above  all,  hasty 
and  inconclusive  inferences,  abound  in  both.  Mr.  Tylor, 
who  has  devoted  his  life  to  the  study  of  such  things,  has 
again  and  again  protested  to  this  effect. 

It  has,  for  example,  been  objected  against  the  intellectual 
ability  of  the  Society  Islanders  that  they  have  separate 
words  for  "  dog's  tail,"  "  bird's  tail,"  "  sheep's  tail,"  etc., 
but  no  word  for  tail  itself — i.  e.,  tail  in  general.  But,  really, 
the  experience  of  the  use  of  that  word  by  ourselves  leads  us 
to  consider  the  condition  of  these  Islanders  in  this  respect  to 
be  no  great  misfortune.  We  have  our  word  "  tail  " — tail 
in  general — and  it  is  constantly  made  use  of  in  a  way  which 
is  hopelessly  misleading.  To  use  the  same  term,  as  we  do, 
for  what  we  call  the  "  tails  "  of  a  peacock,  a  monkey,  and 
a  lobster  is,  so  far,  to  be  in  a  worse  plight  than  that  asserted 
of  the  Society  Islander. 

Much  has  been  said  about  some  savages  being  unable  to 
say  "  I."  Thus  Professor  Sayce  tells  us  that  a  Malay  who 
would  mean  "  I  "  says  ulun — that  is,  "  a  man  "  in  Lampong 
— and  also  that  at  least  one  other  race  expresses  the  idea  "  a 
man  in  a  similar  manner. 

But  that  is  of  not  the  slightest  consequence  as  regards  the 
intellectuality  of  the  speaker.  Asa  child  will  say  "  Charley 
don't  like  it,"  meaning  I  do  not  like  it,"  so  if  an  adult 
Englishman  were  to  speak  of  himself  as  "  this  one  here," 
pointing  to  his  breast,  his  meaning  would  be  as  clear  as  if 
he  articulated  the  sound  "  I." 

It  has  been  supposed  that  the  Grebo  two  sounds  "  ni  ne," 
which  may  mean  "I  do  it  "  or  "  you  do  not,"  according  to 
the  context  and  gestures  of  the  speaker,  may  be  taken  as 
evidence  of  conscious  speaking  in  the  making.  Yet  we  have 
in  our  own  language  equivalent  instances  of  the  explication 


206  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

of  sound  by  context  or  gesture.  Thus  the  expression  "  my 
work  "  may  be  shown  to  signify  either  "  I  do  it  "  or  "  you 
do  not."  A  man  may  say  "  my  work,"  pointing  to  the 
product  with  a  look  showing  lively  satisfaction  at  being  able 
to  boast  himself  as  the  performer  of  so  remarkable  a  feat ; 
or  he  may  say  "  my  work  "  while  pointing  to  his  own  body, 
with  a  look  of  indignation  at  the  idea  of  anyone  else  pretend- 
ing to  have  done  it. 

A  few  further  examples  of  what  have  been  deemed  forms 
of  predication  so  low  as  to  border  on  mere  sensuous  and 
animal  language,  must  here  suffice. 

We  have  been  told  by  Mr.  Romanes '  that  if  a  Dyak 
wants  to  say  "  Thy  father  is,  or  looks,  old,"  he  has,  for  want 
of  words,  to  put  together  such  expressions  as  "  father  of 
thee,"  "  age  of  him."  Also  he  says  that  if  such  a  man 
wants  to  say  of  another  "  He  is  wearing  a  white  jacket,"  the 
form  of  the  statement  would  be  "he  with  white  with 
jacket,"  or  more  tersely,  "  he  jackety  whitey."  But  this 
does  not  in  the  least  tell  against  the  presence  of  distinct  in- 
tellectual meaning  in  the  utterance  of  such  phrases.  They 
may  strike  the  imagination  of  some  persons  so  as  to  call  up 
a  smile,  but  in  sober  truth,  as  regards  meaning  (which  is  the 
only  important  thing),  the  expression,  "  he  jackety  whitey," 
is  essentially  as  good  as  the  expression,  "  The  external  upper 
garment  of  that  man  is  of  the  colour  of  the  driven  snow." 

If  in  Fiji  the  response  "  I  will  "  is  expressed  by  the  form 
"  will  of  me,"  that  surely  is  sufficient.  It  would  be  easy 
enough  to  parallel  such  rendering  by  means  of  examples 
from  English  slang. 

No  doubt  the  parts  of  speech  of  English  grammarians 
may  be,  in  their  external  form,  inapplicable  to  the  Polynes- 
ian languages.  But  the  fact,  however  interesting,  has  no 
significance  as  regards  the  essentially  abstract  nature  of  the 
1  Op.  fit.,  p.  317. 


LANGUAGE  AND   SCIENCE  2O/ 

ideas  conveyed.  Our  expression,  "  I  will  eat  rice,"  may 
require  to  be  rendered,  "  The  eating  of  me  the  rice;  my 
eating  will  be  of  the  rice."  But  such  expressions  are  quite 
reasonable  and  logical. 

If  it  can  be  pointed  out  of  any  object  that  it  is  here,  or 
there,  or  thus,  or  sitting,  or  standing,  or  waiting,  there  can 
be  no  doubt  whatever  of  the  implication  that  it  is — that  it 
exists — even  though  no  special  articular  sound  may  be  de- 
voted to  the  explicit  assertion  that  such  is  the  case.  And 
how  great  is  the  significance  of  that  small  word  "  is  " !  If 
a  brute  could  think  "  is,"  brute  and  man  would  indeed  be 
brothers.  '  Is,"  as  the  copula  of  a  judgment,  implies  the 
mental  separation  and  recombination  of  two  terms  that  only 
exist  united  in  nature,  and  can  therefore  never  have  im- 
pressed our  sensitive  faculty  except  as  one  thing.  ;<  Is," 
again,  considered  as  a  substantive  verb,  as  in  the  example, 
'  This  man  is,"  contains  in  itself  the  application  of  the 
copula  of  judgment  to  the  most  elementary  of  all  abstrac- 
tions— "  thing  "  or  "  something."  Yet  if  a  being  has  the 
power  of  thinking  "  thing"  or  "  something,"  it  has  the 
power  of  transcending  space  and  time  by  dividing  or  decom- 
posing the  phenomenally  one — ideally  separating  the  in- 
dividuality, or  haecceity,  of  an  object  or  idea  from  its 
existence.  This  is  an  act  done  with  reflex  consciousness  by 
philosophers,  but  entirely  without  advertence  by  the  im- 
mense majority  of  mankind.  Here  is  the  point  where 

instinct  "  is  entirely  left  behind  and  where  reason  has 
begun. 

We  have  now  examined  and  reviewed  the  several  asserted 
cases  here  considered  as  giving  the  best  clue  to  the  real 
nature  of  animal  language.  If  we  are  right  in  deeming  that 
no  evidence  has  been  brought  forward  to  show  that  brutes 
can  evolve  and  entertain  abstract  ideas,  it  is  plain  they  can- 
not possess  intellectual  language,  since  the  presence  of  such 


2O8  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

mental  abstraction  is  a  sine  qua  non  for  its  existence.  No 
doubt  the  songs  and  calls  of  birds  have,  in  a  sense,  meanings 
which  are  practically  understood  by  their  fellows.  Some 
dogs  will  make  certain  facts,  e.  g.,  the  presence  of  a  rat  or  a 
thief,  known  to  their  masters,  and  may  also  indicate  which 
of  the  two  it  is  by  the  kind  of  sound  they  make.  Pointers 
and  setters,  by  their  movements  and  the  postures  they 
assume,  will  make  known  other  facts,  while  parrots  and 
jackdaws  can  be  taught  to  articulate  whole  sentences.  All 
this  is  very  true,  but  it  is  nothing  to  the  purpose,  because  it 
does  not  surpass  that  lower  emotional  language  which  we 
also  possess.  We  have,  we  hope,  sufficiently  shown  how 
truly  intellectual  may  be  the  language  of  gesture  which 
mutes  can  use.  Could  animals  do  likewise,  could  any  of 
them  by  gestures  make  us  understand  what  the  language  of 
pantomime  used  in  certain  ballets  can  very  plainly  signify, 
there  would  be  no  need  for  them  to  utter  sounds — such 
movements  alone  would  be  amply  sufficient  to  demonstrate 
to  us  their  rationality.  And  they  have  ample  bodily  powers 
so  to  do,  especially  the  apes,  which  are  so  like  us  in  struct- 
ure. Their  senses,  also,  are  quite  keen  enough  to  give  them 
ideas  about  the  things  they  sensuously  perceive,  were  they 
not  destitute  of  some  higher  faculty  such  as  enables  us  to 
form  intellectual  conceptions.  On  the  other  hand,  they 
might  do  much  more  by  sound  and  gesture  than  they  do, 
and  yet  neither  possess  nor  express  such  conceptions.  It  is 
quite  conceivable  that  a  parrot  might  learn  to  utter  certain 
words  which,  by  teaching,  he  has  come  to  associate  with 
something  pleasant  to  follow,  just  as  a  dog  who  "  begs  " 
has  associated  that  felt  gesture  with  the  imagination  of  bis- 
cuit which  he  has  habitually  received  after  begging.  But 
such  actions  and  imaginations  do  not  tend  even  to  bridge 
over  the  chasm  which  exists  between  intellectual  speech  and 
the  language  of  emotion. 


LANGUAGE  AND   SCIENCE  2Og 

Similarly,  dogs  or  pigs,  trained  to  select  from  a  number 
of  cards  with  letters  on  them,  those  bearing  the  letters 
CAKE,  are  animals  very  curiously  and  ingeniously  trained ; 
but  their  actions  prove  nothing  more  than  that  there  has 
been  established  in  their  imagination  sensuous  associations 
similar  to  those  which  have  been  formed  in  the  psychical 
nature  of  any  dog  that  "  begs." 

It  now  only  remains  to  consider  what  may  be  said  with 
respect  to  the  origin  of  human  speech.  In  the  absence  of 
all  direct  evidence  only  more  or  less  plausible  hypotheses 
are  possible.  One  thing,  however,  we  regard  as  quite  cer- 
tain, and  that  is  that  thought,  the  verbum  mentale,  was 
anterior  to  the  verbum  oris.  The  phenomena  presented  by 
deaf-mutes  are  sufficient  to  show  that  abstract  ideas  can 
exist  without  spoken  words,  and  that  oral  terms  are  the  con- 
sequence of  thought  ordinary  experience  suffices  to  prove. 
When,  in  the  cultivation  of  any  new  science  or  art,  newly 
observed  facts  or  newly  devised  processes  give  rise  to  new 
conceptions,  new  terms  are  invented  to  give  expression  to 
such  conceptions.  Thus  new  words  arise  as  a  consequent, 
and  not  as  an  antecedent,  of  such  intellectual  action.  New 
terms  are  always  fitted  to  fresh  ideas,  and  not  fresh  ideas  to 
new  terms.  Whoever  attentively  follows  the  mental  de- 
velopment of  a  child,  will  see  that  in  it  also,  notions  are 
formed  spontaneously,  and  often  give  rise  to  new  words  of 
the  child's  own  coining. 

The  antecedence  of  thought  is  also  shown  by  the  wonder- 
ful rapidity — far  exceeding  the  rapidity  of  speech — with 
which  the  mind  may  detect  a  fallacy  in  an  argument.  And 
such  detection  is  always  due  to  some  reason  our  mind  per- 
ceives to  be  fatal,  it  may  be,  to  a  long  chain  of  reasoning. 
A  mere  cry  or  gesture  of  negation  may  be  the  sign  of  intel- 
lectual perceptions  which  would  require  more  than  one 
sentence  to  express  fully,  but  which  are  perceived  too  rapidly 


210  THE  GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

for  even  the  mental  repetition  of  the  words  of  such  sentences. 
We  have  seen  how  deaf-mutes  may  spontaneously  evolve 
a  gesture-language,  through  which  they  can  convey  ideas  to 
one  another.  Dr.  W.  W.  Ireland  has  recorded 1  the  case  of 
a  boy  who  could  not  speak  ordinary  words,  and  yet  had  in- 
vented a  few  of  his  own,  to  which  he  attached  fixed  mean- 
ings. Thus  he  said  ' '  weep-oo  ' '  for  night  or  black ;  ' '  burly  ' ' 
for  wood  or  for  a  carpenter;  "  tatteras  "  for  soldiers,  and  so 
on.  An  analogous  case  has  come  within  our  own  experience, 
and  Dr.  Bastian  has  described  another,2  which  seems  to  show 
that  the  faculty  of  rational  speech  is  so  potentially  present 
in  us  that  it  sometimes  manifests  itself  spontaneously  and 
very  unexpectedly.  It  appears  that  in  1877  he  was  con- 
sulted concerning  the  health  of  a  boy  of  twelve,  occasionally 
subject  to  fits.  When  five  years  old  he  had  not  spoken,  but 
before  another  year  had  passed,  on  the  occasion  of  an  acci- 
dent happening  to  one  of  his  favourite  toys,  he  suddenly  ex- 
claimed, "  What  a  pity!  "  which  were  his  very  first  words. 
He  was  then  silent  for  a  fortnight,  but  thereafter  became 
very  talkative.  A  medical  friend  of  ours  was  much  alarmed 
about  his  son  (now  an  eminent  medical  man  himself),  be- 
cause he  was  long  unable  to  speak,  though  he  showed 
clearly  by  an  elaborate  language  of  gesture  that  he  had 
very  distinct  intellectual  conceptions  which,  after  a  time, 
he  began  to  express  vocally.  The  cases  of  Laura  Bridgman 
and  Martha  Obrecht  have  been  already  described.3 

Speech  has,  in  many  cases,  been  shown  to  be  reducible  to 
a  certain  number  of  probably  primitive  terms  called  ' '  roots, ' ' 
and  a  large  number  of  these  denote  some  kind  of  action  or 
movement.  On  this  account  the  suggestion  has  been  made 

1  Idiocy  and  Imbecility,  p.  276.     Churchill,  1877. 

2  The  Brain  as  an  Organ  of  Mind,  p.  606.     Kegan  Paul,  Trench  and  Co. 
1880. 

8  See  ante,  p.  200. 


LANGUAGE  AND  SCIENCE  211 

that  speech  arose  through  a  custom  which  grew  up  of  emit- 
ting peculiar  sounds  when  performing  certain  actions,  as 
seamen  and  others  often  utter  sounds  in  common  when 
working  together. 

But  it  is  conceded  by  all  that  speech  could  not  have'arisen 
except  by  the  utterance  of  sounds,  the  meaning  of  which 
was  understood  both  by  those  who  uttered  them  and  those 
who  heard  them.  Speech  requires  an  apprehending  intelli- 
gence on  the  part  of  the  hearer  as  well  as  on  the  part  of  the 
speaker  if  it  is  to  be  more  than  a  monologue.  Without  the 
attainment  of  this  mutual  comprehension  spoken  language 
could  never  have  arisen.  It  is  true,  of  course,  that  one  man 
performing  some  act  in  the  presence  of  others  would  know 
what  he  was  about  while  the  onlookers  would  know  it  also, 
and  thus  a  sound  repeated  by  him  while  so  acting  might 
generate  a  term  to  denote  such  action,  which  term  would  be 
understood  by  him  and  by  those  who  saw  and  heard  him. 
But  for  this  it  must  have  been  necessary  to  have  the  mental 
conception  of  what  was  being  done,  that  is,  an  abstract  idea. 
If  the  man  acting  and  the  onlookers  only  uttered  the  sound 
accidentally,  without  will  and  intention,  and  then  repeated 
it  automatically,  and  not  as  a  sign  deliberately  meant,  such 
sounds  (articulate  or  not)  could  be  no  form  of  speech.  It 
is  evident  none  of  them  could  understand  or  apply  it  except 
by  first  acquiring  the  idea  or  conception  itself.  Therefore 
the  doctrine,  "  Speech  begot  reason,"  cannot  be  maintained, 
for  speech  cannot  exist  without  the  existence  with  it  of  that 
intellectual  activity  of  which  it  is  the  external  expression. 
As  well  might  the  concavities  of  a  curved  line  be  supposed 
to  exist  withoutfits  convexities,  as  the  spoken  word  be  sup- 
posed to  have  arisen  prior  to  the  idea  which  it  represents. 
Experience  shows  us,  as  we  have  already  observed,  that  it  is 
new  thoughts  which  generate  new  words,  and  not  the  re- 
verse. As  the  deaf-mutes  teach  us,  rational  conceptions 


212  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

can  exist  without  words.  The  intellect  is  the  common 
root  from  which  both  thought  and  language  (whether  of 
word  or  gesture)  spring. 

This  radical  distinction  between  sounds  denoting  abstract 
ideas  and  sounds  which  are  but  the  expression  of  emotional 
feeling  is  the  distinction  between  the  language  (whether  of 
speech  or  gesture)  of  men  on  the  one  hand  and  of  animals 
on  the  other.  That  we  cannot  imagine  how  so  fundamental 
a  distinction  arose  should  be  no  bar  to  our  recognising  its 
existence  as  a  fact.  This  break,  or  new  departure,  in  the 
order  of  nature  is  by  no  means  an  isolated  one.  There  is  an 
absolute  break  between  the  living  world  and  the  world  de- 
void of  life ;  and  though  it  is  true  that  at  some  period  life 
for  the  first  time  appeared  upon  the  surface  of  this  planet, 
whenever  it  did  so  appear,  there  must  have  been  a  breach 
of  continuity  and  a  new  departure,  which  is  no  whit  less  cer- 
tain because  we  cannot  imagine  how  it  took  place.  We  are 
convinced  there  was  another  breach  of  continuity  and  a 
fresh  new  departure  when  the  first  organisms  appeared  which 
were  capable  of  sensation. 

That  all  the  higher  animals  "  feel  "  will  not  be  disputed. 
They  give  abundant  evidence  of  sensitivity,  and  they 
possess  the  special  living  substance — nervous  tissue — which 
we  know  is  the  organ  of  sensation  in  ourselves.  But  the 
world  of  plants  affords  us  no  such  evidence.  The  move- 
ments of  the  leaves  of  some — as  notably  of  the  sensitive 
plant  and  of  Venus's  fly-trap — might  be  thought  so  to  do, 
but  they  are  explicable  without  sensitivity.  That  the 
vegetable  world  is  devoid  of  sensation  is  what  should  be  ex- 
pected, since  plants  are  devoid  of  all  trace  of  a  nervous 
system ;  and  it  is  a  universally  admitted  biological  law  that 
structure  and  function  vary  together.  If,  then,  there  are 
any  organisms  whatever  which  do  not  feel,  while  certain 
other  organisms  do  feel,  then  (as  a  gate  must  be  shut  or  not 


LANGUAGE  AND   SCIENCE  21$ 

shut)  there  is  and  must  be  a  break  and  distinction  between 
the  one  and  the  other. 

But  it  may  be  objected :  "  The  transition  is  so  gradual,  it 
is  impossible  to  draw  a  hard  and  fast  line  between  sentient 
and  insentient  organisms."  Even  if  this  assertion  be  true, 
such  an  objection  would  be  of  no  avail,  because  an  appar- 
ently continuous  and  uninterrupted  course  of  action  is  often 
not  really  such,  but  only  seems  to  be  so  on  account  of  our 
organisation — our  very  limited  power  of  vision. 

Let  us  suppose  an  action  to  take  place  at  precisely  such  a 
rate  as  to  permit  of  our  seeing  its  steps  separated  from  each 
other  by  just  appreciable  intervals;  then  we  have  but  to 
suppose  the  period  needed  for  our  nervous  activity  to  be 
slightly  increased,  and  it  would  necessarily  follow  we  could 
no  longer  perceive  the  intervals,  and  the  supposed  action 
would  seem  to  be  continuous.  Next  let  us  suppose  that  an 
action,  which  is  really  interrupted,  takes  place  so  quickly 
that  we  cannot  perceive  the  intervals ;  we  have  but  to  im- 
agine our  nervous  activity  accelerated  to  a  sufficient  degree 
and  the  intervals  would  be  plainly  perceptible  to  us. 

Absolute  interruptions  and  new  departures  take  place 
every  day  in  nature.  Such,  for  example,  take  place  at 
every  junction  of  the  ultimate  sexual  elements  in  impregna- 
tion and  in  the  final  separation  of  the  embryo  from  the 
parent  at  birth. 

Because  we  cannot  imagine  the  origin  of  an  intellectual 
nature  or  any  other  origin,  no  argument  thence  arises 
against  such  breaches  of  continuity — such  new  departures. 
We  cannot  imagine  them,  simply  because  we  cannot  see, 
feel,  or  in  any  way  sensuously  cognise  them.  We  cannot 
perceive  them,  as  we  cannot  perceive  the  ultimate  constitu- 
tion of  matter,  because  we  have  not  been  provided  with  the 
organs  necessary  to  minister  to  such  perception.  As  Pro- 
fessor Miers  once  remarked  to  us,  we  cannot  perceive  them 


214  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

any  more  than  we  can  distinguish  colours  by  listening,  how- 
ever attentively,  with  our  ears. 

But  however  impotent  may  be  our  imagination,  our  reason 
assures  us  that  wherever  a  distinction  of  kind  exists,  there 
must  also  be  a  breach  of  continuity,  and  a  new  departure. 
For  a  "  nature  "  or  a  "  kind  of  existence  "  does  not  admit 
of  augmentation  or  diminution — of  "  greater  "  or  "  less  " — 
it  simply  "  is  "  or  "  is  not,"  and  there  is  no  possibility  of 
any  intermediate  condition. 

Seeing,  then,  that  there  is  now  existing  an  absolute  differ- 
ence between  the  non-living  and  the  living,  and  between 
non-sentient  organisms  and  those  endowed  with  sensitivity, 
we  may,  on  grounds  of  analogy,  deem  it  antecedently  prob- 
able (what  a  study  of  the  question  seems  to  us  to  make 
almost  certain)  that  there  is  also  a  breach  of  continuity  and 
a  new  departure  in  passing  from  merely  sentient  creatures 
to  beings  endowed  with  reason. 

The  distinction  which  exists  between  that  lower  form  of 
language,  of  which  mere  animals  are  capable,  and  by  which 
they  express  their  feelings  and  emotions,  and  that  external 
manifestation  (by  words  or  gestures)  of  abstract  ideas  of 
which  man  alone  is  capable,  constitutes  the  strongest  possible 
argument  for  the  existence  of  a  difference  of  kind  between 
human  reason  and  the  cognitive  faculties  of  brutes.  A 
recognition  of  the  existence  of  this  distinction  of  kind,  then, 
removes  every  cause  for  doubt  and  wonder  that  the  intellect 
of  man  should  be  capable  of  apprehending  absolute  truths 
to  which  all  the  other  inhabitants  of  this  planet  are  blind, 
and  should  dispose  us  to  accept  with  readiness  and  without 
distrust  whatever  our  highest  faculties  declare  to  us  to  be 
absolutely  and  necessarily  true. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

INTELLECTUAL  ANTECEDENTS  OF  SCIENCE 

WE  have  now  passed  through  our  preliminary  inquiries 
respecting  the  objects,  methods,  and  antecedents  of 
science.  We  have  recognised  that  there  is  a  real,  external 
world,  the  conditions,  laws,  and  relations  of  which  it  is  the 
business  of  science  to  investigate,  as  it  is  also  its  business  to 
take  note  of  the  existence,  laws,  and  relations  of  the  investi- 
gating human  mind.  We  have  seen  what  are  the  main 
physical  and  psychical  conditions  necessary  for  the  very 
being  of  human  knowledge,  and  what  are  those  fundamental 
psychical  activities  of  which  we  must  make  use  for  even  its 
most  trifling  increase. 

In  our  last  two  chapters  we  carefully  distinguished  be- 
tween our  lower  and  our  higher  mental  powers,  and  it  now 
becomes  our  business  to  direct  our  whole  attention  to  the 
latter,  as  they  are  the  only  tools  of  which  we  can  make  use 
in  exploring  the  foundations  of  science  and  seeking  to  ob- 
tain a  satisfactory  Epistemology. 

But  before  we  can  advance  one  step  further  in  our  inquiry, 
we  must  make  sure  that  the  ground  beneath  our  feet  is 
perfectly  solid  and  secure,  so  that  there  shall  be  no  danger 
of  our  falling  into  an  abyss  of  intellectual  nihilism,  or  a 
quagmire  of  doubt  and  uncertainty. 

We   long  ago  '  remarked  that   we  are  all  certain  about 

1  See  ante,  p.  97. 
215 


2l6  THE    GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

many  things,  and  that  certainty  is  necessary  for  any  real 
scientific  progress ;  and  later  on  l  we  noted,  in  an  introduct- 
ory manner,  the  absolute  certainty  which  attends  our  reflex 
consciousness.  These  remarks  were  necessary  preliminaries 
to  some  subsequent  considerations  which  we  then  brought 
forward.  Now,  however,  the  time  has  come  for  us  to  study 
the  question  of  certainty  deliberately  and  as  fully  as  we  are 
able,  and  to  call  the  reader's  attention  to  those  considera- 
tions which  earlier  (when  speaking  of  reflex  consciousness) 
we  said  we  would  reserve  for  a  future  chapter. 

In  the  first  place,  it  is  evident  that  we  must  be  certain  of 
something,  and  that,  do  what  we  may,  we  cannot  get  rid  of 
our  certainty.  For  if  anyone  were  to  affirm  he  was  certain 
of  nothing,  and  that  to  no  proposition  could  he  give  an 
unhesitating  and  fully  confident  assent,  he  would  thereby 
contradict  himself,  for  he  would  at  the  same  time  be  affirm- 
ing the  certainty  of  his  own  disbelief  in  and  denial  of 
certainty. 

•  To  avoid  this  charge  of  self-contradiction,  he  might,  per- 
haps, go  on  to  say:  "  Oh!  I  do  not  affirm  that  there  is  no 
certainty ;  I  am  far  from  denying  that  there  may  be  such  a 
thing;  all  I  affirm  is  that  I  doubt  everything,  even  whether 
I  have  any  conviction  about  certainty  one  way  or  the  other. " 
But  by  so  objecting  he  does  not  cease  to  affirm  certainty : 
all  the  difference  is  that  his  certainty  takes  a  different  form 
from  that  before  attributed  to  him.  Instead  of  asserting 
the  certainty  of  his  denial  of  certainty,  he  would  thereby 
be  affirming  the  certainty  that  his  mind  was  in  a  state  of 
doubt.  But  that  is  a  matter  about  which  anyone  may  be  as 
certain  as  of  any  other  fact  of  belief  or  conviction. 

Concerning  the  present  mental  state  in  which  anyone 
knows  himself  to  be — whether  it  be  a  state  of  doubt  or  be- 
lief, or  a  state  of  having  a  sensation  of  blue  or  of  a  sour 

1  P.  138. 


INTELLECTUAL  ANTECEDENTS  OF  SCIENCE         21  / 

taste — he  has  the  most  absolute  certainty  possible ;  for  it  is 
a  fact  concerning  which  Omnipotence  itself  is  powerless  to 
deceive  him.  It  may  be,  indeed,  that  his  sensation  of  blue 
is  a  merely  subjective  one,  and  the  sourness  he  tastes  may 
be  occasioned  not  by  what  he  puts  in  his  mouth,  but  by 
some  abnormal  condition  of  his  gustatory  nerves  or  of  his 
brain.  That,  however,  does  not  make  it  in  the  least  the 
less  certain  that  he  has  the  sensation  he  feels.  The  reality 
of  the  fact  of  the  feeling  is  in  no  way  lessened  by  whatever 
may  have  been  the  cause  producing  it.  Similarly,  he  may 
believe  what  is  the  merest  delusion,  e.  g.,  that  his  legs  are 
made  of  glass,  or  may  doubt  what  is  most  evident  to  his 
senses,  as  that  there  is  light  when  the  sun  is  shining  at 
noonday.  But  none  the  less,  his  belief  is  his  belief  while 
he  has  it,  and  so  is  his  doubt,  his  doubt.  Both  are,  and 
can  only  be,  to  him  just  what  they  are  while  he  is  ex- 
periencing them.  As  to  this,  he  has  the  most  absolute 
certainty  conceivable,  that  is,  the  certainty  of  both  his  direct 
and  his  reflex  consciousness.  He  can  with  full  conscious- 
ness direct  his  attention  on  his  own  mental  state  and  say : 
;<  I  certainly  have  such  a  belief,  or  such  a  doubt."  As  to 
this,  if  he  thinks  about  it,  no  man  can  really  doubt.  But  a 
man,  nevertheless,  may  not  think  of  it,  and  not  having  real- 
ised that  he  has  a  subjective,  absolute  certainty  which  no- 
thing can  even  weaken,  he  may  yet  fall  into  an  unreasonable 
doubt  as  to  his  own  mental  faculties.  Being  fully  aware 
that  he  has  in  his  life  made  many  mistakes,  and  that  most 
men  also  frequently  make  them,  it  is  conceivable  he  might 
say  to  himself,  "  As  my  faculties  have  deceived  me  in 
something,  may  they  not  deceive  me  in  everything  ?  What 
guarantee  have  I  that  they  are  not  always  fallacious  ?  I 
cannot  get  outside  myself  and  compare  my  convictions  with 
external  realities ;  therefore  I  have  no  satisfactory  evidence 
of  their  truth,  and  so  I  really  know  nothing,  and  am  intel- 


2l8  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

lectually,  as  it  were,  entirely  at  sea,  drifting  I  know  not 
where  or  how.  The  idea  that  I  can  be  really  certain  about 
anything  is  for  me  an  absurdity.  What  can  I  ascertain 
about  the  cause  and  origin  of  the  faculties  I  possess  ?  For 
all  I  can  tell,  I  may  be  the  sport  of  a  demon  who  amuses 
himself  with  deceiving  me  in  all  things!  " 

But  to  such  a  man  we  would  say,  Why  do  you  feel  this 
distrust  of  your  faculties  ?  It  is  evident  that  your  want  of 
certainty  about  them  can  only  be  due  to  your  certainty 
about  something  else. 

You  are  convinced  that  you  cannot  surely  arrive  at  truth 
because  your  faculties  may  be  deceptive ;  but  on  what  is  this 
conviction  of  yours  founded  ?  Why  cannot  you  trust  them 
all  the  same  ?  It  is,  and  must  be,  owing  to  your  perception 
that  no  one  can  arrive  at  conclusions  which  are  themselves 
certain  by  means  of  premisses  which  are  false,  or  even  uncer- 
tain. Now,  in  this  perception  of  yours  you  are  evidently 
quite  right,  but  please  observe  that  you  cannot  have  the 
conviction  you  say  you  have  about  it  except  by  trusting 
your  faculties  after  all.  Therefore,  if  you  are  convinced,  as 
you  say  you  are,  about  this  impossibility  of  attaining  con- 
clusions which  are  certain  from  false  or  uncertain  premisses, 
you  must  be  convinced  that  your  faculties  are  not  always 
fallacious,  and  you  must  also  perceive  that  your  imaginary 
demon  cannot  deceive  you  in  everything. 

Therefore,  doubt  as  we  may,  certainty  is  the  inalienable 
possession  of  even  the  most  absolute  sceptic,  who,  when  he 
says  he  is  certain  of  nothing — even  of  his  own  scepticism — 
simply  contradicts  himself,  and  says  what  is  mere  nonsense. 

At  the  outset  of  this  our  most  important  inquiry,  namely, 
the  study  of  our  highest  faculties,  it  is  necessary  for  the 
reader  thus  to  see  clearly  that  certainty  exists,  and  that  he 
not  only  can  but  must  possess  it  about  some  things,  or  else 
pay  the  penalty  of  drifting  into  imbecility  and  mental  im- 


INTELLECTUAL  ANTECEDENTS  OF  SCIENCE 


2I9 


potence.  He  would,  indeed,  be  compelled  to  affirm  the 
certainty  of  uncertainty,  and  so  to  contradict  himself,  and 
to  deny  the  truth  of  the  system  he  at  the  same  time  up- 
holds. Such  a  position  is  so  unspeakably  foolish  a  one, 
that  it  cannot  be  understood  and  seriously  maintained  by 
any  sane  mind. 

From  this  fact  it  is  well  to  note  that  an  important  con- 
sequence follows:  no  proposition,  no  argument,  and  no  sys- 
tem of  thought,  which  logically  and  necessarily  results  in 
such  absolute  scepticism,  can  be  valid ;  and  every  system, 
argument,  and  proposition  which  carries  with  it  such  con- 
sequences, can  thus  be  shown  to  be  false  by  a  process  of 
reductio  ad  absurdum. 

Unquestionably,  then,  certainty  exists;  but  the  recogni- 
tion of  this  truth  constitutes  but  a  very  small  step  on  the 
road  to  an  inquiry  as  to  what  propositions  are  most  true, 
and  on  what  evidence  do  they  depend  ? 

Now,  our  imaginary  sceptic  was  shown  to  have  based  his 
scepticism  on  the  following  process  of  reasoning — on  the 
syllogism : 

All  conclusions  resulting  from 
uncertain  or  false  premisses 
But   the    declarations   of    my 
mental  faculties 


are  untrustworthy. 


.     are     conclusions    resulting 
from  uncertain  or  false 
premisses. 
Therefore,  the  declarations  of 

my  mental  faculties  .  are  untrustworthy. 
He,  therefore,  must  have  been  under  the  persuasion  that 
reasoning  is  the  test  of  truth,  and  there  are  not  a  few  persons 
who  are  similarly  minded  and  think  that,  in  order  to  be  ab- 
solutely certain  about  anything,  it  must  be  capable  of  proof, 
as  also  that  to  accept  as  true  anything  which  is  incapable  of 
proof,  is  to  accept  a  conviction  blindly. 


22O  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

Of  course  it  is  common  enough  and  reasonable  enough  to 
ask  for  proof  to  be  given  with  respect  to  any  new  or  extra- 
ordinary statement,  and  it  is  most  reasonable  not  to  assent 
to  any  proposition  which  does  not  possess  sufficient  evidence. 

It  is  also  true  that  the  greater  part  of  our  knowledge  is 
gained  by  us  indirectly,  by  inference  or  testimony  of  some 
kind.  And  thus  it  has  come  about  that  many  persons  (as 
before  said)  have  acquired,  half-unconsciously,  a  persuasion 
that  to  believe  anything  which  cannot  be  proved  is  an  act 
of  irrational  credulity,  and  thus  a  tendency  has  arisen  to 
distrust  any  assertion  for  which  no  proof  is  offered. 

But,  as  we  before  pointed  out,1  however  long  our  pro- 
cesses of  proof  may  be,  they  must  stop  somewhere.  We 
cannot  go  on  reasoning  forever  if  anything  is  ever  to  be 
proved.  Therefore,  every  valid  process  of  reasoning  must 
ultimately  depend  upon  propositions  which  need  no  proof, 
and  are  undemonstrable — not  "  undemonstrable  "  because, 
like  matters  which  have  been  taken  on  trust,  we  can  obtain 
no  evidence  for  them,  but  because  they  are  so  luminously 
self-evident  that  they  admit  of  no  demonstration,  nothing 
else  being  so  clearly  and  necessarily  true  as  they  are.  We  * 
have,  indeed,  just  said  that  it  is  most  reasonable  to  demand 
sufficient  evidence  for  any  proposition  to  which  our  assent  is 
demanded.  But  that  evidence  need  not  be  external  evi- 
dence, and  the  evidence  of  those  ultimate  propositions  which 
need  no  proof  is,  and  must  be,  internal  evidence.  They 
carry  with  them  their  own  evidence,  and  so  are  evident  in 
and  by  themselves. 

Thus  the  reasoning  of  our  supposed  sceptic — his  syllogism 
— reposes  on  premisses  which  are  accepted  by  him  as  true — 
the  major  very  reasonably,  though  the  minor,  most  mis- 
takenly. 

Either,  therefore,  we  have  no  certainty  as  to  anything — a 

1  See  ante,  p.  103. 


INTELLECTUAL   ANTECEDENTS  OF  SCIENCE         221 

position  we  have  seen  to  be  absurd  and  untenable — or  the 
propositions  upon  which  our  certainty  ultimately  reposes 
are  such  as  are  self-evident  and  need  no  proof.  If,  also,  it 
is  reasonable  to  accept  as  true,  statements  which  are  shown 
to  be  so  by  reasoning,  it  must  be  still  more  reasonable  to  ac- 
cept propositions  which  are  shown  to  be  true  in  and  by 
themselves :  which  are  evident  to  our  intellect  as  necessarily 
true,  as  is  the  statement  that  we  have  a  feeling  which  at  the 
time  we  know  by  our  consciousness  we  actually  possess. 

If  any  reader  still  has  some  feeling  of  dissatisfaction  or 
discomfort  about  the  self-evidence  of  ultimate  truths,  we 
would  ask  him  to  reconsider  the  reasoning  of  our  supposed 
absolute  sceptic.  We  represented  him  as  objecting  that  he 
could  obtain  no  external  evidence  as  to  the  correspondence 
of  his  internal  convictions  with  external  realities. 

Let  us  then  suppose  that  he  could,  by  some  unimaginable 
miracle,  get  outside  his  present  mental  state  and  view  his 
convictions  and  the  objects  they  were  related  to,  from  out- 
side, so  that  he  could  compare  them  one  with  the  other,  and 
obtain  a  higher  kind  of  conviction — in  a  secondary  mental 
state — as  to  their  correspondence.  But  how  could  he  thereby 
gain  any  better  assurance  as  to  the  objective  correspondence 
of  the  convictions  of  his  subjective  secondary  mental  state 
with  respect  to  the  objective  realities  of  the  comparisons  he 
had  originally  made  ?  For  this  he  would  need  to  go  outside 
himself  again,  and  then  again  and  yet  again  forever,  with- 
out ever  attaining  to  any  better  grounded  conviction  than 
the  one  wherewith  he  originally  set  forth.  Sooner  or  later 
he  must  accept  self-evidence  as  sufficient  (as  we  before 
provisionally  pointed  out),1  or  he  must  fall  into  absolute 
scepticism,  which  is  a  form  of  idiocy.  What  other  or  better 
criterion,  or  ground  of  belief,  could  any  ultimate  truth  pos- 
sibly have  ?  Any  criterion  of  an  ultimate  proposition  must 

1  See  ante,  p.  57. 


222  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

be  contained  either  in  that  proposition  itself,  and  so  make 
it  luminously  self-evident,  or  else  in  something  external  to 
it.  Now  any  external  criterion,  however  complete  and 
perfect  it  may  be,  could  only  be  appreciated  by  us  through 
our  perception  of  it  and  our  judgment  about  it.  If  a  pro- 
position suddenly  appeared  written  upon  a  cloud,  or  on  the 
face  of  the  full-moon,  we  could  not  on  that  account  accept 
it  as  certainly  true  till  we  had  examined  the  evidences  which 
circumstances  could  possibly  afford  us.  Our  first  impres- 
sion, of  course,  would  be  that  we  were  the  victims  of  a 
hallucination,  and  next,  the  question  of  the  possibility  and 
probability  of  common  hallucinations  would  have  to  be 
taken  into  consideration.  But,  finally,  and  at  last,  if  we 
did  accept  the  proposition  as  true,  it  would  only  be  because 
we  perceived  that  our  ultimate  judgments  about  it  were 
self-evidently  so.  If  the  proposition  so  written  were,  "  Two 
added  to  two  make  five,"  we  should  not  believe  it  to  be 
true  any  the  more  for  its  inexplicable  appearance.  By  no 
external  criterion,  then,  neither  by  the  absurd  one  just  im- 
agined, nor  by  any  other,  could  we  be  furnished  with  better 
evidence  than  we  already  possess.  We  could  but  have  self- 
evidence,  after  all,  as  our  ultimate  criterion.  It  will  be 
clearly  seen,  on  reflection,  that  nothing  external — no  com- 
mon consent  of  mankind,  common-sense,  or  any  amount  of 
human  testimony — could  ever  take  the  place  of  an  ultimate 
criterion  of  knowledge,  since  some  judgment  of  our  own 
mind  must  always  decide  for  us  with  respect  to  the  existence 
and  the  value  of  such  criteria.  Self-evidence,  then,  is  the 
necessary  and  only  criterion  of  truth.  The  principle  of  evi- 
dence is  one  which  is  really  ultimate,  and  must  be  accepted 
under  pain  either  of  futile  reasoning,  or  of  complete  intellect- 
ual paralysis.  It  is,  of  course,  necessarily  incapable  of  demon- 
stration or  any  kind  of  proof,  since  it  depends  on  nothing 
else.  We  all  of  us  assume  it  as  a  criterion  unconsciously, 


INTELLECTUAL  ANTECEDENTS  OF  SCIENCE         22$ 

and  it  is  confidently  acted  on  by  everyone  who  reasons. 
But  when  we  ponder  over  the  matter,  we  see  that  what  we 
have  thus  done  spontaneously,  through  the  natural  activity 
of  our  intellect,  has  been  done  most  reasonably.  Did  we 
not  adopt  it,  we  should  not  only  be  utterly  unable  to  think 
logically,  but  should  be  plunged  into  the  most  utter  and 
most  absurd  mental  disorganisation. 

On  the  other  hand,  by  recognising  that  criterion  for  what 
it  must  be,  and  is,  we  gain  a  secure  foundation  for  our 
knowledge,  and  are  enabled  to  make  progress  in  science. 
Our  mental  condition  is,  by  such  recognition,  transformed 
from  a  hopeless  chaos  into  an  orderly  cosmos. 

It  has  now,  we  trust,  been  made  sufficiently  clear  to  the 
attentive  reader  (what  has  been  incidentally  put  forward  in 
earlier  chapters)  that  his  own  mind — that  the  mind  of  each 
one  of  us — already  possesses  absolute  certainty  about  some 
things,  and  that  his  intellect  declares  that  things  which  are 
clearly  seen  to  be  evident  in  and  by  themselves  possess  the 
greatest  certainty  which  it  is  possible  for  the  human  mind 
to  attain  to,  and  that  such  certainty  is  abundant. 

If  one  is  so  unfortunate  as  not  to  be  able  to  see  this 
clearly,  and  not  to  be  able  to  have  a  firm  conviction  that 
there  is  such  a  thing  as  certainty,  as  also  that  many  things 
are  actually  and  in  fact  certain,  then  he  had  better  close 
this  volume  and  abstain  from  opening  any  other  work  on 
science,  contenting  himself  with  simple  matters,  the  toils 
and  pleasures  of  every-day  life,  without  a  thought  beyond. 

Having  satisfied  ourselves  once  for  all  that  certainty 
exists,  and  that  the  criterion  of  certainty  is  evidence, 
whereof  intrinsic  self-evidence  is  the  highest  kind,  our  next 
step  should  be  an  endeavour  to  ascertain  what  things  are 
most  evident — what  things  are  supremely  certain. 

In  our  third  chapter  we  contended  that  we  have  an  intui- 
tion of  an  external, independent  world  of  extended  things. 


224  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

This  is  equivalent  to  the  affirmation  that  extended  things 
are  self-evident,  and  that  we  do  actually  affirm  them  so  to 
be.  Nevertheless,  as  we  have  before  pointed  out,1  the  self- 
evidence  and  certainty  of  the  existence  of  such  an  external 
world  do  not  attain  to  the  very  highest  degree  of  certainty 
and  evidence.  They  have  not  this  pre-eminence,  because 
we  have  to  obtain  their  certainty  through  the  ministry  of 
the  senses,  by  the  aid  of  which,  together  with  reflection,  we 
recognise  the  action  of  external  bodies  upon  us,  and  the 
sensations  they  excite  within  us,  through  which  (without 
our  at  first  attending  to  and  recognising  our  sensations)  such 
bodies  are  made  present  to  our  minds  so  that  we  perceive 
them.  The  fact  that  we  gain  this  perception  by  so  com- 
plex a  process  (though,  through  it,  we  cognise  objects 
directly  and  not  reflexly,  or  by  inference),2  makes  us  able 
to  entertain  a  sort  of  fictitious  doubt  about  the  nature  of 
our  perceptions  of  external  things,  but  for  which  all  idealism 
would  be  absolutely  impossible.  We  may  (because  many 
persons  do)  believe  that  our  inevitable  perception  of  the 
world  about  us  is  either  an  inference  or  a  delusion,  even  to 
the  extent  of  regarding  ourselves  as  the  one  only  cause  of 
everything  we  perceive  —  that  is  to  say,  we  may  accept 
solipsism.  As  our  own  body  is,  for  our  mind,  one  portion, 
though  a  very  peculiar  portion,  of  the  external  world, 
doubts  which  may  be  entertained  about  that  world  must 
apply  also  to  it.  Moreover,  what  we  perceive  with  the 
greatest  certainty  about  the  external  world  is  just  that  which 
our  senses  do  not  and  cannot  show  us.  That  secondary 
qualities  should  be,  objectively,  very  different  from  what  we 
subjectively  feel  them  to  be  we  can  easily  admit ;  but  that, 
underlying  them,  there  should  .not  be  an  unperceived  and 
imperceptible  substance  in  each  body,  constituting  it  essen- 
tially a  "  thing  in  itself,"  belies  that  intuition  of  extension 

1  See  ante,  p.  46.  2  See  ante,  p.  62. 


INTELLECTUAL   ANTECEDENTS  OF  SCIENCE         22$ 

by  which  we  know  bodies  to  be  the  self-evident  entities  they 
are,  and  thus  and  therefore  it  is  that  idealism  is  in  conflict 
with  sound  sense. 

So  with  respect  to  the  existence  of  our  own  bodies :  the 
supreme  certainty  we  have  about  it  is  not  merely  what  is 
present  in  the  feeling  of  the  moment,  but  the  cognition  we 
have  of  it  is  gained  (as  we  shall  shortly  see)  through  our 
faculty  of  memory  together  with  the  exercise  of  reflection. 

Thus  all  that  is  most  evidently  and  supremely  certain  for 
us  is  not,  as  so  commonly  supposed,  anything  we  experience 
in  sensation,  nor  anything  we  cognise  in  examining  or  ex- 
perimenting with  material  things,  but,  on  the  contrary, 
exclusively  that  which  is  immaterial,  abstract,  and  mental. 

The  truth  of  whatever  is  true,  and  the  evidence  of  what- 
ever is  evident,  can  be  most  perfectly  known  to  us  only  by 
thought  and  not  sensation.  Not  observation,  not  experi- 
ment, not  sensitivity,  but  thought  and  thought  only  (as  we 
pointed  out  earlier),1  is  and  must  be  our  supreme,  ultimate, 
and  absolute  criterion.  Our  last  appeal  in  all  cases  is  and 
must  ever  be  to  a  perception — an  intuition — of  the  intellect. 

Nevertheless,  a  mental  world  of  abstract  intuitions  and 
nothing  else  could  never  supply  us  with  a  knowledge  of 
science,  still  less  with  a  perception  of  the  groundwork  of 
all  science.  Abstract  intuitions  furnish  us  with  fundamental 
principles,  which  are  not  only  priceless  in  themselves,  but 
are  also  indispensable  elements  in  all  reasoning.  But  be- 
sides such  processes  of  reasoning  and  such  fundamental 
principles,  science  requires  a  knowledge  of  absolute  facts. 
Without  such  facts  all  our  reasonings  must  remain,  as  it 
were,  in  the  air,  and  could  never  descend  to  earth  and  be- 
come of  practical  utility  to  us.  There  are,  therefore,  three 
categories  of  truths,  the  perception  of  all  of  which  is  indis- 
pensably necessary  for  science.  These  are :  (i)  certain  general 

1  See  ante,  p.  14. 

15 


226  THE    GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

principles ;  (2)  certain  particular  facts ;  and  (3)  certain  pro- 
cesses of  reasoning. 

Without  a  knowledge  of  certain  general  principles  we 
could  not  argue;  without  a  knowledge  of  certain  facts  all 
our  reasoning  would  merely  concern  abstract  ideas ;  and 
without  a  reference  to  concrete  reality,  and  without  some 
criterion  of  valid  reasoning,  we  could  never  arrive  at  any 
conclusion  or  discover  and  explicitly  recognise  implicit 
truths,  no  inferences  could  be  deduced,  and  no  advance  in 
science  could  be  consequently  attained. 

We  will  select  from  the  category  of  particular  facts  one 
which  may  serve  as  a  solid  foundation  and  starting-point 
towards  a  pursuit  of  our  object. 

Let  us  suppose  that  certain  definite  observations  and  ex- 
periments have  been  carried  on — such,  e.  g.,  as  those  which 
were  performed  by  the  late  M.  Pasteur  with  a  view  to  the 
treatment  of  rabies.  Now  there  is  one  supremely  important 
truth  which  is  implied  in  our  certainty  as  to  the  result  of 
any  such  experiment,  whatever  that  result  may  be.  Unless 
we  can  be  sure  that  it  was  we  who  both  began  the  experi- 
ment and  also  witnessed  its  conclusion — that  there  had  been 
no  change  in  our  personality  while  experimenting — such 
conclusion  could  not  be  confidently  relied  on  by  us,  as  we 
have  before  pointed  out.1  The  most  fundamental  of  all 
facts  for  our  purpose  is  the  fact  of  our  continous  personal 
existence. 

Now,  of  course,  no  one  is  so  mad  as  to  deny  that  he 
knows  his  existence  at  the  moment  he  thinks  about  it.  We 
have  already  noticed  the  absolute  certainty  we  have  about 
any  feeling  while  we  feel  it;  and  as  nothing  can  feel  which 
does  not  exist,  the  certainty  about  the  existence  of  a  feel- 
ing makes  no  less  certain  the  existence  of  him  who  feels  it. 
It  is  not  this  momentary  knowledge  of  self-existence — what 
1  See  ante,  p.  101. 


INTELLECTUAL   ANTECEDENTS  OF  SCIENCE         22/ 

is  known  as  the  "empirical  Ego  "—which  is  here  in  ques- 
tion, but  the  existence  of  our  being  continuously,  from  hour 
to  hour,  from  day  to  day,  from  year  to  year,  and  from  child- 
hood till  the  present  time. 

Such  a  "  continuous  self,"  it  has  been  again  and  again 
affirmed  by  followers  of  Hume,  cannot  be  known  (i)  with 
supreme  certainty,  such  as  attends  our  certainty  about  our 
possession  of  any  present  feeling  we  may  have ;  and  (2)  that 
it  cannot  be  certainly  known  because  it  cannot  be  known 
absolutely  and  by  itself,  but  always  as  some  modification  or 
present  state  of  consciousness. 

But,  in  the  first  place,  though  we  may  be  perfectly  certain 
about  our  possessing  any  present  feeling,  that  certainty  is 
not  in  the  feeling  but  in  the  conscious  thought  which  recog- 
nises the  existence  of  the  feeling.  Secondly,  not  only  is  it 
untrue  that  we  cannot  have  supreme  certainty  about  our 
continuous  existence,  but  the  supremacy  and  certainty  we 
have  of  that  is  actually  higher  in  degree  than  is  our  certainty 
about  our  possessing  any  present  state  of  feeling. 

What  we  are  conscious  of  when  not  directing  our  own 
mind  backwards  upon  its  own  experiences  is  a  direct  con- 
sciousness of  whatever  we  may  be  about — what  we  may  be 
doing  or  feeling — and  whatever  may  be  done  to  us — what 
we  are  doing  or  suffering.  The  focus  of  our  consciousness 
(the  apex  of  the  conscious  wave)  is  not  directed  either  upon 
our  own  existence  from  moment  to  moment,  or  upon  the 
particular  feeling  or  state  of  consciousness  which  we  may 
then  have.  We  can,  however,  at  almost  any  moment  direct 
it  backwards  and  reflect  upon  either  of  these,  and  so  attain 
supreme  certainty  either  about  our  continuous  existence 
from  moment  to  moment,  or  upon  the  feeling  or  state  of 
consciousness  then  present  with  us. 

Let  the  reader  test  this  assertion  by  his  own  experience. 
As,  for  example,  let  him  examine  what  his  mind  is  oc- 


228  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

cupied  about  while  sitting  and  attentively  reading  these 
pages. 

He  will  find  his  mind  is  not  occupied  about  the  feelings 
occasioned  by  his  sitting  in  the  chair  which  supports  him, 
or  the  book  he  holds  in  his  hand,  any  more  than  it  is  oc- 
cupied about  his  own  continuous  existence,  but  about  the 
contents  of  this  book.  Yet  he  can  at  will  make  himself 
explicitly  aware  of  either  his  feelings  or  his  perception  of 
his  own  self-existence.  After  thus  turning  his  mind  back 
upon  itself  he  will  then  be  able  to  say,  either  "  I  have  the 
feelings  which  attend  holding  and  reading  a  book  on  the 
Groundwork  of  Science,"  or  he  may  say  to  himself,  "  It  is 
I  who  have  these  feelings."  But,  as  before  said,  this  is  not 
a  natural,  primary  act,  but  an  act  of  reflection — that  is,  a 
secondary  act.  No  one,  when  he  begins  to  think,  adverts 
either  to  his  "  present  feelings  "  or  to  his  "  continuous  per- 
sonal existence."  No  one  begins  by  perceiving  his  act  of 
perception  a  bit  more  than  he  begins  by  expressly  adverting 
to  the  fact  that  it  is  he  himself  who  perceives  it. 

Only  by  reflecting  on  the  direct  spontaneous  perception 
of  the  mind  is  it  that  we  can  explicitly  see  (by  such  a  second- 
ary act)  that  our  perceptions  and  feelings  are  perceptions 
and  feelings,  or  that  it  is  truly  we  who  perceive  and  feel. 
When  a  man  playing  cricket  is  having  his  innings,  he  has  all 
the  "  perceptions  "  and  "  states  of  consciousness  "  which 
attend  the  assumption  of  the  fit  postures  for  the  reception 
and  striking  of  the  ball,  and  for  gaining  such  runs  as  his  ad- 
dress may  make  possible.  He  knows  very  well  all  the  time 
what  he  is  about  during  his  play.  But  he  never  directs  his 
mind  upon  "  his  states  of  consciousness,"  or  "  the  persist- 
ence of  his  being."  What  he  directly  regards  is  what  he  is 
doing  and  what  is  being  done  to  him — the  defence  of  his 
wicket  from  the  attack  of  the  bowler.  If  he  were  to  divert 
his  attention  therefrom  to  either  his  own  "  perceptions  "  or 


INTELLECTUAL  ANTECEDENTS  OF  SCIENCE        229 

his  "  persistent  existence,"  the  result  would  certainly  not 
contribute  to  the  success  of  the  eleven  whereof  he  was  a 
member. 

But  we  said  that  when  men  do  so  reflect,  the  certainty 
thus  gained  of  a  persistent  existence  is  even  higher  in  degree 
than  that  of  any  present  feeling,  perception,  or  state  of  con- 
sciousness. And  in  fact,  it  is  the  "  self  "  which  is  the  more 
prominently  given.  For  the  "  feeling  "  or  "  perception  " 
is  perceived  as  our  present  "  feeling  "  or  "  perception,"  and 
cannot  be  cognised  altogether  apart  from  the  "  self."  But 
our  "  self-existence  "  can  be  cognised  without  our  advert- 
ence to  any  feeling  which  may  accompany  such  cognition  or 
to  any  "  perception  "  as  such. 

In  all  our  ordinary  perceptions,  wherein  there  is  but  a 
"  direct  "  and  no  "  reflex  "  cognition  of  either  "  self  "  as 
"  existing  "  or  of  our  "  perception  "  as  being  such,  it  is  the 
self  again  which  is,  as  it  were,  nearer  the  surface  of  the 
mind.  For  we  are  sure,  at  least  in  our  own  case,  that  a 
more  laborious  mental  act  is  needed  to  bring  explicitly  be- 
fore the  mind  the  "  feelings  "  implicitly  contained  in  any 
perception,  than  to  bring  explicitly  before  the  mind  the 
self-existence  implicitly  contained  in  any  such  perception, 
as  also  that  the  existence  of  the  self,  as  self,  is  more  readily 
recognised  than  the  existence  of  a  perception  as  a  percep- 
tion. 

Men  repeatedly  and  very  quickly  advert  to  the  fact  that 
actions  or  sufferings  are  their  own.  They  are  generally 
prompt  to  claim  any  merit  there  may  be  in  the  former,  or 
to  cry  out  against  the  unmerited  character  of  the  latter. 
They  do  not,  however,  by  any  means  so  repeatedly  and 
quickly  advert  to  the  fact  that  the  feelings  and  perceptions 
they  experience  are  "  existing  feelings  and  perceptions." 

We  think,  therefore,  it  is  impossible  to  deny  that  to 
assert  we  can  know  our  "  states  of  consciousness"  more 


230  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

certainly,  and  directly  than  we  can  know  the  "  continuously 
existing  self  "  which  has  them,  is  a  most  profound  and 
fundamental  mistake. 

We  are  at  this  moment  writing :  we  feel  the  pen  and  the 
motions  of  our  hand  and  arm,  and  recognise  that  we  have 
such  sensations,  and  that  we  perceive  hand  and  arm,  pen, 
ink,  and  paper.  But  ordinarily,  when  writing,  we  no  more 
advert  to  such  "  perceptions  "  than  we  advert  to  our  "  per- 
ceptions "  when  running  up  or  down  stairs.  It  is  plain  that 
we  do  not  so  advert;  for  as  surely  as  our  attention  is  so 
directed,  our  movements  in  writing  become  hampered  in 
the  one  case,  and  a  stumble  on  the  staircase  '  is  very  likely  to 
occur  in  the  second.  Much  less  inconvenience  ensues  from 
•turning  the  mind  inwards  (while  writing  or  running  up  or 
down  stairs),  and  recognising  our  existence,  than  from  ad- 
verting to  our  bodily  movements  while  thus  occupied. 
Thus  here,  again,  we  may  recognise  the  fact  that  of  the  two 
certainties,  the  certainty  of  our  own  existence  from  moment 
to  moment  is  more  easily  attained  than  the  certainty  as  to 
what  is  the  nature  of  the  various  feelings  and  perceptions 
which  may  accompany  the  actions  above  referred  to,  or  any 
others. 

But,  as  we  have  noted,  it  has  been  objected  against  the 
possibility  of  our  self-knowledge  that  we  can  never  know 
ourselves  absolutely  and  unmodified,  but  only  in  some  state 
or  under  some  relation.  Now  it  is  very  true  that  we  have 
no  intuition  of  our  own  psychical  being  in  its  essence,  and 
apart  from  any  of  its  activities,  passivities,  and  relations. 
But  then  the  same  thing  can  be,  and  must  be,  said  of  every- 
thing else  we  perceive.  In  fact,  nothing  we  can  in  any  way 
perceive  exists  apart  from  everything  else,  or  "  absolutely  " 
— as  it  is  (in  our  opinion)  very  unreasonably  termed. 

Everything  which  exists,  exists  always  in  some  state  or 

1  See  ante,  p.  117. 


INTELLECTUAL   ANTECEDENTS  OF  SCIENCE         23! 

condition,  and  stands  in  some  definite  relation  to  other 
things.  Small  wonder,  then,  if  we  do  not  know  things  in  a 
way  in  which  they  never  do  and  probably  never  can  exist. 
We  can  know  nothing  by  itself,  for  the  very  good  reason 
that  nothing  exists  "  by  itself."  It  is  quite  true  that  we 
have  never  known  our  own  existing  being  except  in  some 
state ;  but  then  we  have  never  known  anything  else  except 
in  the  same  manner.  jOur  knowledge  of  ourselves  is,  in  this 
respect,  like  our  knowledge  of  anyone  else.  Many  persons 
knew,  as  we  did,  the  late  Professor  Huxley,  but  no  one  ever 
knew,  or  could  possibly  imagine,  him  except  in  some  state 
— either  standing  or  not  standing,  speaking  or  silent,  etc. 
But  that  did  not  in  the  least  prevent  them  from  knowing 
him  well,  and  the  fact  of  his  continuous  existence  for  a 
greater  or  less  number  of  years. 

To  many  of  our  readers  this  exposition  of  the  certainty 
we  have  concerning  our  own  continuous  existence  may  seem 
superfluous.  But  just  as  we  have  been  convinced  that  it 
was  necessary  to  make  as  evident  as  it  was  in  our  power 
to  do,  the  truth  that  certainty  exists  and  what  is  its  crite- 
rion, so  we  are  convinced  it  is  necessary  to  do  our  best  to 
show  that  the  first  and  most  fundamental  of  all  facts  is  the 
fact  of  our  continuous  being.  If  doubts  as  to  either  of 
these  truths  cannot  be  entirely  expelled  from  the  mind  of 
any  inquirer,  that  mind  must  remain  subject  to  a  sort  of  in- 
tellectual falling-sickness,  rendering  all  steady  progress  in 
what  concerns  science  really  hopeless,  and  a  pursuit  of 
Epistemology  utterly  futile.  The  fact  of  self-existence 
from  day  to  day  is  the  most  fundamental  and  important 
of  all  facts  about  which  our  minds  can  give  us  any  informa- 
tion— not  on  its  own  account  so  much  as  on  account  of  the 
consequences  which  follow  its  distinct  recognition,  as  we 
shall  clearly  see  when  we  come  to  speak  of  memory. 

But  before  leaving  this  subject,  we  must  notice  one  further 


232  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

objection  against  the  possibility  of  our  knowledge  of  our 
own  continuous  and  substantial  being. 

It  has  been  said  that  the  self  of  each  instant,  the  self  the 
existence  of  which  no  one  denies  (the  "  empirical  Ego  "), 
must,  if  we  know  our  continuous  substantial  existence,  be 
identical  with  an  underlying  principle  of  unity,  continuous 
and  enduring  (the  "  pure  Ego  ").  This,  we  are  told,  is  im- 
possible, because  the  Ego  of  each  -instant  is  the  feeling 
"  subject,"  while  the  underlying  principle  is  an  existence — 
is  a  thing — thought  about,  and  is  an  "object  "  of  cognition. 
But  the  "  subjective  "  and  "  objective  "  are  necessarily  anti- 
thetical, and  therefore  the  "  pure  "  and  "  empirical  "  Egos 
must  be  separated  from  each  other  by  the  unfathomable 
chasm  which  divides  "  subject  "  from  "  object." 

Yet,  as  we  have  seen,  the  "  pure  Ego  "  can  be  perceived 
in  conjunction  with  its  states,  modifications,  and  relations, 
and  recognised  as  being  the  "  Ego  "  which  also  recognises 
that  identity. 

The  fact  is  that  our  own  being — our  Ego — differs  from 
everything  else  whatever  in  that  it  can  be,  and  is,  both 
"  subject  "  and  "  object."  It  is,  as  we  before  noted,1  in  a 
sense  subject  and  object  identified ;  though  more  cognised  as 
especially  the  one  or  especially  the  other,  according  to  the 
direction  taken  by  the  mind  at  one  or  another  moment. 

We  have  but  to  turn  our  minds  carefully  inwards  and  ad- 
vert to  what  our  consciousness  tells  us  in  order  to  be  able 
clearly  to  see  that  the  fact  of  our  own  substantial  existence 
is  a  truth  which  carries  with  it  its  own  evidence,  and  is 
absolutely  certain  in  and  by  itself. 

We  say,  "what  consciousness  tells  us,"  but  by  that  we  do 
not  mean  consciousness  only  of  the  present  but  also  our 
consciousness  as  to  some  of  the  past.  For  it  is  not  a 
momentary  existence,  but  a  substantial  and  continuous 

1  See  ante,  p.  139. 


INTELLECTUAL   ANTECEDENTS  OF  SCIENCE         233 

existence,  the  certainty  of  which  we  have  been  affirming  is 
both  so  fundamental  and  supreme. 

Our  knowledge  of  our  continuous  existence  carries  with  it 
the  conviction  of  the  validity  of  o\ir  faculty  of  memory.1  It 
is,  of  course,  obvious  that  by  asserting  the  validity  of  this 
faculty  we  do  not  and  cannot  mean  that  our  memory  is 
always  to  be  trusted.  For  everyone  knows,  and  generally 
regrets,  that  there  are  things  he  is  certain  he  once  knew  but 
which  he  can  no  longer  recollect.  As  age  advances,  the 
recollection  of  the  facts  of  the  recent  past  becomes  gradually 
less,  and  there  are  many  instances  of  exceptionally  defective 
memory,  sometimes  of  a  whole  subject-matter,  sometimes 
of  particular  parts  thereof.  But  all  these  exceptional  phe- 
nomena do  not  affect  the  assertion  of  the  general  trustwor- 
thiness of  memory  —  the  assertion  that  what  most  people 
remember  clearly  and  distinctly,  and  which  they  are  certain 
really  was  as  they  remember  it,  did  in  fact  occur  as  they 
remember  it.  Putting  aside  exceptional  persons,  in  patho- 
logical conditions,  it  is  certain  that  everyone  can  recollect  a 
portion  of  his  past  experience — either  what  has  just  occurred 
or  what  happened  at  a  somewhat  earlier,  or  very  much 
earlier,  date. 

It  is  also  obvious  that  the  trustworthiness  of  memory  is 
implied  in  our  knowledge  of  our  own  existence,  since  we 
could  never  know  either  what  our  most  recently  experienced 
feelings  or  our  direct  perceptions  of  the  empirical  Ego  have 
been  save  by  the  aid  of  memory.  Therefore  the  certainty 
we  have  as  to  the  one  or  the  other  of  these  carries  with  it  a 
certainty  that  our  memory  can  inform  us  truly  as  to  the 
past. 

As  we  have  before  pointed  out,  in  order  that  memory 
should  exist,  it  is  necessary  that  whatever  is  remembered 
should  be  recognised  by  him  who  remembers  it  as  having 

1  See  ante,  p.  100. 


234  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

occurred  before,  and  without  such  recognition  no  recurrence 
of  a  bygone  mental  image,  however  many  times  it  should 
occur,  would  be  an  act  of  memory. 

But  there  are  two  forms  of  real  memory.  All  our  readers, 
we  are  quite  sure,  have  now  and  again  tried  to  recall  some- 
thing they  know  they  before  knew  and  ought  to  recollect. 
As  memory  is  not  truly  a  voluntary  act,  they  can  only  turn 
their  minds  in  this  or  that  direction,  which  they  think  may 
possibly  or  probably  lead  them  to  it,  till  at  last  they  have 
thus  succeeded,  and  have  before  their  minds  once  more 
the  thought  they  wanted  to  regain.  Such  a  mode  of  re- 
appearance, due  to  a  more  or  less  prolonged  effort  of  the 
imagination  directed  in  different  directions  by  the  will,  is 
distinguishable  as  recollection. 

But  very  often  an  image  of  the  past  suddenly  appears 
in  consciousness  unsought — unbidden — and,  it  may  be,  its 
reappearance  is  far  from  a  welcome  one.  Such  a  spontane- 
ous resurrection  of  past  thoughts  and  images  is  distinguish- 
able as  reminiscence. 

It  is  "  recollection,"  the  presence  of  which  is  implied  in 
our  reflex  knowledge  of  our  own  existence,  because  for  that 
we  voluntarily  turn  the  mind  backwards  on  itself.  We  have 
spoken  of  our  knowledge  of  our  existence  "  from  moment 
to  moment,"  because  we  are  not  sure  that  it  is  possible  ever 
to  know  the  present  moment  by  a  reflex  act.  It  is  true  that 
it  is  possible  to  look  at  a  coloured  object  and  say,  "  Now  I 
see  red."  In  our  own  case,  it  seems  to  us  that  we  can  thus 
be  reflexly  conscious  of  the  present  moment.  Nevertheless, 
we  cannot  be  sure  that  in  this  we  do  not  deceive  ourselves. 
For  since  we  are  a  unity  made  up  of  material  existence, 
thought,  and  feeling;  since  the  mind  -cannot  act  in  any  way 
without  some  concurrent  action  of  the  nervous  system ;  and 
since  no  nervous  action  can  take  place  without  requiring  a 
certain  time  for  its  performance,  it  appears  to  us  that  the 


INTELLECTUAL   ANTECEDENTS  OF  SCIENCE 

reflex  act  which  recognises  "  I  am  I,"  or  "  My  feeling  is 
now  being  felt,"  must  be  one  that  occupies  a  portion  of 
time,  however  minute,  and  that  therefore  the  existence,  or 
act,  thus  reflexly  cognised,  must  be  an  existence  or  act  of 
the  moment  past.  That  our  faculties,  with  our  bodily 
organisation,  may  fail  to  seize  on  this  minute  and  moment- 
ary state  of  succession,  is  no  more  wonderful  than  that  an 
iron  bar,  red-hot  at  one  end,  should,  when  very  rapidly 
twirled,  give  our  eyes  the  impression  of  a  circle  of  light. 

But,  however  this  matter  may  be,  though  mistakes  of 
various  kinds  are  possible,  we  are  none  the  less  all  of  us  cer- 
tain as  to  some  past  events  in  our  lives.  It  may  be  an  event 
of  childhood ;  it  may  be  one  when  leaving  school ;  it  may 
be  our  marriage ;  or  it  may  be  the  last  thing  that  those  who 
are  now  reading  this  did  before  they  began  to  read  it.  As 
to  some  portions  of  the  past,  memory  gives  us  as  much  cer- 
tainty as  we  can  have  with  respect  to  some  portions  of  the 
present — if  we  can  have  reflex  knowledge  of  anything  abso- 
lutely present. 

If  we  could  not  trust  our  faculty  of  memory,  not  only 
would  all  history  be  impossible,  but  we  could  never  order 
our  future  conduct  according  to  the  lessons  our  experiences 
of  life  ought,  and  are  supposed,  to  give  us. 

But  the  veracity  of  the  faculty  of  memory  can  never  be 
proved,  and  is,  manifestly,  a  self-evident  truth  carrying  with 
it  its  own  certainty.  There  can  be  no  possible  proof  of  it, 
because  we  cannot  argue  at  all  unless  we  already  trust  it. 
How  could  we  ever  reach  the  conclusion  of  a  syllogism  if  we 
could  not  trust  our  memory  as  to  what  the  assertions  of  the 
major  and  minor  premisses  were  ? 

Yet,  marvellous  to  relate,  an  eminent  physicist  once  de- 
clared that  we  may  trust  our  memory  because  we  learn  its 
trustworthiness  by  experience !  Surely  never  was  fallacy 
more  glaring!  How  could  we  ever  gain  experience  at  all 


236  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

unless  we  trusted  our  memory  in  gaining  it  ?  What  the 
physicist  said,  in  effect,  amounted  to  this:  "  You  may  trust 
your  present  memory  because  experience  has  confirmed  it, 
while  you  can  only  know  that  it  has  confirmed  it  by  trusting 
your  present  memory!  " 

But  memory,  as  will  be  quickly  pointed  out,  performs  a 
yet  more  wonderful  office  than  any  we  have  yet  described. 

In  the  beginning  of  this  work  '  we  pointed  out  the  great 
distinction  which  exists  between  the  "  objective  "  and  the 
"  subjective." 

Every  "  feeling,"  "  thought,"  "  desire,"  "  volition,"  or 
other  "  state  of  consciousness  "  present  to  the  mind  of 
whoever  is  the  subject  of  it,  is  spoken  of  as  being  "  subjec- 
tive." It  is  a  thing  which  pertains  to  the  subject — to  the 
mind  which  feels  or  thinks.  The  whole  of  such  experiences, 
taken  together,  constitute  the  subjective  world,  or  the  sphere 
of  subjectivity. 

On  the  contrary,  everything  whatever  which  exists  exter- 
nally to  our  present  consciousness  or  feelings  is  spoken  of  as 
being  "  objective";  and  all  that  is  thus  external  to  the 
mind  constitutes  the  objective  world,  and  is  the  region  of 
objectivity.  It  is  the  world  of  real  objects — the  world  which 
occasions  thought  or  feeling  as  opposed  to  the  subjective 
modifications  so  occasioned. 

Everything  which  is  subjective  pertains  to  the  self  or 
Ego  during  the  time  in  which  that  "self"  is  feeling  or 
thinking. 

Everything  which  is  objective  is  external  to  the  self  which 
is  feeling  or  thinking,  so  that  all  states,  even  of  the  "  self  " 
or  "  Ego,"  which  are  anterior  to  the  time  when  that  self  or 
Ego  feels,  are  also  objective — objects  of  thought,  indeed, 
but  not  the  thought  or  feeling  of  the  thinking  subject — not 
subjective. 

1  See  ante,  pp.  8,  9. 


INTELLECTUAL   ANTECEDENTS  OF  SCIENCE 

All  thoughts  and  feelings  are  "  objects  "  and  objective 
while  they  are  being  thought  of  or  reflected  upon,  while  the 
acts  of  "  thinking  about  "  them  or  "  reflecting  on  "  them 
are  subjective. 

It  is  generally  recognised  that  there  is  no  greater  antithesis 
than  that  which  exists  between  the  subject  which  thinks 
and  everything  which  may  or  can  be  an  object  of  thought. 
It  is  the  great  distinction  between  the  "  self  "  and  the  "  not- 
self."  Every  modern  philosopher,  beginning  with  Des- 
cartes, has  sought  in  vain  to  discover  a  bridge  capable  of 
spanning  that  abyss.  To  avoid  the  difficulty  the  material- 
ists have  simply  ignored  the  need  of  a  bridge,  and  pretended 
they  were  already  on  the  other  side,  having  effected  the 
transit  by  an  act  of  blind  credulity ;  while  the  idealists,  like 
the  philosophers  of  Laputa,  have  tried  by  elaborate  calcula- 
tions and  manipulations  of  mere  feelings  to  bring  the  other 
side  over  to  themselves. 

Yet  all  the  time  nature  has  provided  us  with  the  simplest 
and  most  practically  useful  of  bridges  in  the  mere  existence 
of  that  conscious  memory  which  is  involved  in  our  perception 
of  our  own  substantial  being. 

That  is  the  "  yet  more  wonderful  office"  performed  by 
memory  to  which  we  recently  made  reference.  It  is  the 
bridge  implanted  in  our  own  being  between  object  and  sub- 
ject. It  is  memory  which  enables  us  to  get  intellectually 
outside  our  present  selves  and  our  present  feelings  and  sen- 
sations, in  a  way  no  sane  man  can  question. 

For  memory,  inasmuch  as  it  reveals  to  us  part  of  our  own 
past,  reveals  to  us  what  is  "  objective,"  and  so  actually  in- 
troduces us  into  the  realm  of  objectivity,  shows  us  more  or 
less  of  objective  truth,  and  carries  us  (as  we  have  before  said) 
into  a  real  world  beyond  the  range  of  our  present  feelings, 
our  sensations  and  sense-impresses. 

The  power  which  memory  possesses  of  thus  lifting  us,  as  it 


238  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

were,  out  of  our  present  selves  and  showing  us  facts  which 
otherwise  we  could  never  know,  is  certainly  a  most  wonder- 
ful power;  and,  if  we  only  have  certainty  as  to  one  of  our 
past  experiences,  even  if  that  took  place  but  a  few  hours 
ago,  one  such  certainty  would  alone  be  sufficient  to  prove 
indisputably  that  we  can  and  do,  through  the  faculty  of 
memory,  learn  real  objective  truth  and  can  be  certain  about 
much  more  than  mere  "  impressions  "  and  "  sense-im- 
presses," more  than  "appearances  "  and  "present  feelings," 
more  than  mere  "phenomena" — namely,  about  objective 
reality. 

Thus  the  fact  that  we  can  know  with  certainty  our  sub- 
stantial, continued  existence,  and  facts  anterior  to  our 
present  feelings,  is  a  truth  fruitful  indeed  with  far-reaching 
consequences. 

We  have  said  that  in  the  recognition,  by  a  reflex  act,  of 
our  continued  being,  subject  and  object  were,  "  in  a  sense," 
identified. 

We  used  the  expression  "  in  a  sense  "  for  a  very  definite 
and  important  reason,  for  though  in  that  recognition  subject 
and  object  are  to  a  certain  extent  conjoined  and  so  "  identi- 
fied," yet  what  memory  vouches  for  remains  truly  "  object- 
ive ";  our  past  states  and  experiences  are  distinct  objects 
of  cognition.  Nevertheless,  the  consciousness  which  recog- 
nises them  and  affirms,  through  them,  our  own  identity  (all 
through  the  changes  and  experiences  we  have  undergone), 
is  no  less  completely  and  truly  "  subjective"  -it  is  the 
conscious  act  of  the  subject  which  cognises  and  witnesses  its 
own  being  and  past  experience. 

Therefore,  in  this  act,  subject  and  object,  in  one  sense, 
keep  the  distinctness  of  their  two  natures,  while,  in  another 
sense,  they  become  identified  in  a  single  act  of  reflex  con- 
scious cognition. 

In  this  circumstance  we  have  indeed  a  vast  and  profound 


INTELLECTUAL  ANTECEDENTS  OF  SCIENCE         239 

distinction  between  human  nature  and  anything  of  which 
the  psychical  being  of  mere  animals  has  as  yet,  to  our 
knowledge,  shown  itself  capable.  No  one  pretends  that 
brutes  possess  this  marvellous  intuition,  while  it  is  and  must 
be  present,  however  unrecognised,  in  any  savage  who  has 
but  one  recollection  of  anything  he  has  done  or  has  had 
done  to  him. 

It  is  thus  alone  that  we  can  unite  the  past  with  the 
present  and  say"  I  am."  These  two 'words  have  an  im- 
mense significance  for  anyone  who  will  carefully  ponder  over 
them.  They  signify  that  he  who  utters  them  intelligently 
recognises  certain  past  acts  as  his  own  acts,  and  that  a  con- 
tinuous unity  (himself)  has  persisted,  essentially  the  same, 
for  a  longer  or  shorter  time  and  has  had  more  or  less  varied 
experiences.  He  who  utters  them  also  thereby  indicates 
that  he  has  the  power  of  knowing  at  least  one  objective 
existence  which  his  senses  cannot  perceive. 

Such  must  be  the  case,  because  our  senses  can  only  feel 
what  is  present  to  them  ;  they  can  never  feel  the  past.  The 
very  fact  of  our  feeling  anything  shows,  with  certainty,  that 
something  is  actually  present  which  occasions  that  feeling. 
But  it  is  clear  to  everyone  that  his  intellect  can,  by  the  help 
of  memory,  know  with  certainty  something  which  is  far  from 
being  present  here  and  now,  namely,  some  event  of  his  past 
life.  Similarly,  he  is  thus  able  to  perceive  his  own  continu- 
ous existence,  which  is  most  certainly  a  thing  which  cannot 
be  felt.  Our  body  can,  of  course,  be  felt  as  often  as  we  like, 
in  several  ways  at  the  same  time,  and  as  long  as  we  choose 
to  feel  it.  Nevertheless,  each  time  we  feel  it  we  can  but 
experience  the  present  feeling,  and  without  memory  and 
without  reflex  acts  of  the  intellect,  we  cannot  know  that  our 
own  body  has,  and  has  had,  a  continuous  enduring  exist- 
ence. It  can  never  be  felt  as"  enduring,"  although  by  the 
aid  of  repeated  sensations  it  can  be  intellectually  perceived to 


240  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

be  enduring.  But  the  intellect,  aided  by  memory,  can 
know  very  well,  by  itself  and  directly,  that  it  has  an  endur- 
ing permanence,  and  that  the  thought  of  the  day  before 
yesterday  was  its  own  thought.  It  can  know  this  with  a 
degree  of  certainty  which  it  is  impossible  to  attain  to  as 
regards  any  other  fact.  To  doubt  the  continuous  existence 
of  our  body  from  day  to  day  would  be  absurd  indeed, 
and  a  sure  sign  of  lunacy;  but  to  doubt  the  continuous 
existence  of  the  intellect,  while  illuminated  by  a  clear 
memory  as  to  some  of  its  past  acts,  known  with  certainty 
to  have  been  performed,  would  be  infinitely  still  more 
absurd. 

This  power  of  memory,  however,  is  so  wonderful,  and  the 
consequences  which  follow  the  recognition  of  the  work  it 
does  are  so  profound,  that  it  is  in  no  way  surprising  its 
value  should  have  been  underestimated.  Yet,  as  we  have 
seen,  its  validity  cannot  be  impugned  without  intellectual 
suicide  and  falling  into  a  fatuous  system  of  universal  scepti- 
cism. The  self-evident  truth  that  our  faculty  of  memory 
is  valid  is  one,  the  acceptance  of  which  is  absolutely  neces- 
sary for  the  pursuit  of  any  inquiry,  and  for  the  full  recogni- 
tion of  what  is  for  us  the  most  certain  of  all  facts,  namely, 
the  fact  of  our  own  existence. 

We  have  now  seen  (i)  that  certainty  does  exist — that 
there  is  such  a  thing  as  certainty — (2)  that  our  own  existence 
is  a  most  certain  fact,  and  (3)  is  vouched  for  by  our  self- 
evidently  valid  faculty  of  memory. 

But  facts  alone,  however  certain  and  well-remembered, 
cannot  constitute  science  without  the  aid  of  some  abstract 
fundamental  principles.  We  require  a  knowledge  of  some 
principles  which  are  self-evidently  true  ever  and  always. 
Otherwise  we  could  never  arrive  at  certain  truths  with 
respect  to  any  matter  of  investigation  or  study.  These 
principles,  also,  must  not  merely  be  laws  and  conditions  of 


INTELLECTUAL   ANTECEDENTS  OF  SCIENCE         241 

our  own  mind,  but  must  be  true  of  all  objects  open  to  our 
ken.  They  must  be  true  objectively  as  well  as  subjectively, 
and  must  be  laws  of  "  things  "  no  less  than  laws  of 
"  thought."  They  must  be  seen  to  be  necessarily  true 
everywhere  and  everywhen,  quite  independently  of  any  or 
of  every  mind.  If  such  be  the  case,  the  same  laws  must 
apply  to  the  most  common  circumstances  of  every-day  life 
as  well  as  to  the  highest  matters  of  philosophy.  They 
must  also  be  no  mere  blind  mental  processes,  the  result  of 
any  faculty  such  as  instinct,  or  be  due  to  any  kind  of  non- 
rational  impulse.  Their  influence  must  be  seen  in  daily  life, 
in  actions  resulting  from  definite  and  certain  intellectual 
first  principles  and  necessary  and  evident  truths,  to  which 
the  competent  philosopher  can  always  trace  them.  This 
does  not  mean  they  are  evident  as  such  principles  and  truths 
to  the  mind  of  every  man  who  uses  them,  but  that  their 
truth  is  completely  evident  without  reflection.  In  vain  will 
the  village  grocer  try  to  persuade  the  farmer's  wife  that  if 
from  sixteen  ounces  of  tea  two  ounces  be  removed,  the  rest 
is  none  the  less  equal  to  a  pound.  She  will  be  quite  sure 
such  is  not  the  case,  though  she  may  be  quite  guiltless  of 
the  knowledge  of  a  single  axiom.  Similarly,  if  a  labourer 
has  given  the  whole  of  his  week's  wages  to  his  wife,  he  will 
be  quite  sure  no  part  of  them  is  still  in  his  pocket,  though 
he  never  heard  a  word  about  any  first  principles.  The  intel- 
lectual light  of  such  first  principles  illuminates  the  intellect 
of  every  sane  man,  be  he  civilised  or  savage.  Not,  most 
certainly,  that  savages  and  ignorant  men  can  know  such 
principles  as  abstract  truths.  But  those  principles,  none  the 
less,  reveal  themselves  to  the  mind  in  the  concrete  facts  of 
every-day  life  as  practical  motives  for  judging  and  acting. 
It  is  true  we  cannot  explain  how  these  truths  became  thus 
practically  apprehended  in  the  objects  and  actions  of  our 
constant  experience,  but  we  are  and  must  be  ignorant  of 

16 


242  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

14  how  "  anything,  which  is  for  us  ultimate,  is,  whatever  it 
may  be.  The  "  that  "  must  ever  be  final.  The  "  how  " 
can  never  be  so,  for  the  answer  to  every  "  how  "  must  be 
a  "  that." 

The  first  and  most  important  of  these  principles  is  the 
perception  of  the  reality  of  existence — that  what  we  per- 
ceive to  exist  evidently  does  in  truth  so  exist.  This  is  often 
expressed  by  the  formula,  "  A  is  A,"  a  formula  which  to 
some  persons  appears  utterly  trivial,  but  which,  neverthe- 
less, lies  at  the  basis  of  all  our  knowledge,  and  is  a  funda- 
mental certainty  without  which  no  science  could  even  begin 
to  be. 

Another  principle  is  that  known  as  "  the  excluded 
middle,"  which  affirms  that  any  given  thing  must  either  be 
or  not  be,  closely  allied  with  which  is  that  great  regulative 
principle  to  which  we  have  already  adverted,1  and  which  is 
called  "the  principle  of  contradiction''  —  the  principle, 
namely,  that  nothing  can,  at  one  and  the  same  time,  both 
be  and  not  be. 

Now  it  has  been  strangely  objected  against  this  law  of  the 
universe,  that  it  is  but  a  law  of  grammar,  or,  at  most,  of 
logic.  It  has  been  said  *  to  be  but  "  a  verbal  convention," 
not  possessing  "  objective  validity." 

But  the  objector  might  be  (as,  in  fact,  he  was)  asked 
"  whether,  if  he  had  lost  an  eye,  he  would  still  remain,  after 
that  loss,  in  the  same  condition  as  he  was  in  before  ?  " 

If  anyone  does  not  see  the  objective  impossibility  of  such 
a  thing  in  all  places  and  at  all  times — /'.  e.,  if  he  does  not 
apprehend  the  application  of  the  law  of  contradiction — then 
he  either  does  not  understand  the  question,  or  his  mental 
condition  is  pathological. 

Men  may  pretend  to  doubt  such  principles,  their  own 

1  See  ante,  p.  105. 

*  See  Nature  for  Dec.  20,  1891,  and  Feb.  u,  1892. 


INTELLECTUAL   ANTECEDENTS  OF  SCIENCE         243 

existence,  or  the  objectivity  of  mathematical  truths.  But 
their  practice  demonstrates  their  unfailing  confidence  in 
them  on  each  occasion  as  it  arises — as  when  cheated  by 
false  accounts,  personally  injured,  or  busied  with  some 
serious  investigation.  That  nothing  can  simultaneously  be 
existent  and  non-existent  does  not  at  all  depend  on  the 
words  employed  to  denote  that  truth,  but  is  "a  law  of 
things."  It  would  not  lose  its  validity  and  objective  truth, 
not  only  if  there  were  no  such  things  as  "  words  "  at  all, 
but  it  would  not  lose  them  if  the  whole  human  race  came  to 
an  end.  The  necessity  and  universality  of  this  principle  is 
easily  recognised.  Thus  if  we  think  of  what  the  condition 
of  things  must  have  been  a  long  while  ago — in  the  days  of 
Julius  Caesar,  or  when  palaeolithic  implements  were  first 
fashioned — we  shall  see  that  the  law  of  contradiction  is  as 
sure  and  certain  with  respect  to  the  past  as  it  is  with  the 
present.  We  do  not  "  think,"  we  actually  "  know  "  with 
absolute  certainty  that  had  Julius  Caesar  been  drowned  off 
the  coast  of  Britain  he  could  not  also  have  been  assassinated 
in  the  Roman  Senate  House,  as  also  that  at  the  time  when 
some  early  palaeolithic  man  was  in  the  act  of  fashioning  a 
flint  implement,  he  had  not  then  both  his  hands  empty. 
The  same  certainty  exists  as  to  the  most  distant  regions. 
We  are  quite  sure  that  the  moon's  surface  cannot  be  both 
mountainous  and  also  absolutely  smooth,  and  that  the  spec- 
trum of  a  fixed  star  which  shows  certain  definite  lines,  can- 
not at  the  same  time  be  devoid  of  them.  Such  assertions 
might  well  seem  too  superfluous  and  trivial  did  not  men 
who  have  written  letters  to  the  journal  named  Nature,  make 
it  only  too  evident  that  they  are  sorely  needed. 

This  first  principle,  this  law,  then,  is  one  of  those  which 
are  at  once  both  absolute  and  universally  necessary,  while 
they  are  incapable  of  proof  and  carry  with  them  their  own 
evidence. 


244  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

But  it  is  possible  that  one  or  two  of  our  readers  may  be 
startled  at  those  words  which  we  have  more  than  once  used, 
namely,  "  absolutely  necessary  "  and  "  universal."  They 
may  feel  some  vague  doubt  as  to  how  this  matter  may  be  in 
the  Dog-star  now,  or  how  it  may  have  been  long  ages  before 
our  nebula  was  churned  into  worlds — supposing  the  solar 
system  did  so  arise.  We  may  be  asked:  "  How  is  it  pos- 
sible for  creatures  such  as  men  are,  mere  insects  of  a  day, 
inhabiting  a  floating  atom  in  an  obscure  corner  of  the  uni- 
verse, to  know  that  anything  is,  and  must  be,  absolutely 
true  for  all  regions  of  space  and  the  most  distant  abysses  of 
time  ?  " 

Yet,  in  fact,  we  know  much  more  even  than  this.  How- 
ever poor,  feeble,  and  incomplete  intellectually  human 
nature  may  be,  it  is  nevertheless  endowed  with  power  to 
see  necessary  limits  to  the  action  even  of  Omnipotence  itself. 

Let  us  suppose  that  our  planet  might  have  been  the  abode 
of  vegetable  life  only;  its  hills  and  dales  and  plains  abound- 
ing in  forests  in  which  the  voice  of  no  songster  could  be 
heard  or  even  the  hum  of  insect  life.  Let  us  also  suppose 
that  the  world  might  have  been  devoid  of  dry  land  and 
covered  everywhere  by  an  ocean,  in  the  waters  of  which 
animal  life  existed  exclusively  and  abounded.  However 
possible  we  may  suppose  each  of  these  conditions  to  have 
been,  it  is  manifest  that  no  power,  however  omnipotent  we 
may  believe  it  to  be,  could  ever  have  made  both  of  these 
possible  states  of  our  globe  simultaneously  actual.  Such 
considerations  as  these  may  help  to  give  confidence  to  any 
of  our  readers  who,  from  want  of  thought,  may  have  been 
disposed  to  doubt  their  powers  of  perception  as  to  necessary 
truths  and  truths  of  a  lower  order.  It  is  necessary,  indeed, 
to  be  careful  not  to  declare  anything  to  be  certain  till  it  has 
been  seen  to  be  clearly  and  indubitably  true ;  but  it  is  no 
less  necessary  that  we  should  not  shrink  from  declaring  that 


INTELLECTUAL   ANTECEDENTS  OF  SCIENCE         24$ 

to  be  true,  the  certainty  of  which  is  evident  to  our  minds, 
however  wonderful  it  is,  and  however  inexplicable  may  be 
the  fact  of  our  knowledge  of  it.  We  are  able  to  explain 
how  it  is  we  know  many  things,  but  how  we  know  primary 
and  fundamental  truths  which  are  self-evident  and  neces- 
sarily incapable  of  proof  must  ever  remain  for  us  entirely 
inexplicable.  Were  they  explicable  they  could  not  be 
ultimate. 

The  feeling  of  distrust  which  some  persons  experience 
when  they  are  told  they  can  know  with  absolute  certainty 
certain  truths  to  be  both  universal  and  necessary,  seems  to 
be  due  to  a  habit  of  mind  which  has  been  brought  about  by 
an  unconsciously  formed  association  between  ideas.  Things 
which  are  very  remote  in  space  or  which  happened  ages  ago 
are  generally  known  to  us  as  results  of  elaborate  mental 
processes,  and  some  uncertainty  about  them  is  by  no  means 
uncommon.  On  the  other  hand,  we  often  feel  very  con- 
fident about  matters  the  circumstances  and  conditions  of 
which  are  within  easy  reach  of  our  powers  of  observation. 
Thus  we  have  come  to  associate  a  feeling  of  uncertainty 
with  respect  to  statements  concerning  things  which  are 
very  remote  in  either  time  or  space.  It  is  not,  then,  sur- 
prising that  a  feeling  of  vague  distrust  should  arise  when 
beginners  in  philosophy  hear  it  affirmed  that  the  law  of 
contradiction  applies  equally  to  whatever  concerns  the 
Dog-star  and  our  portion  of  the  universe,  myriads  of  ages 
before  the  solar  system  had  its  first  origin. 

It  is,  as  we  have  before  said,  very  wonderful  that  we 
should  have  this  knowledge  of  necessary  truths,  but,  as 
before 1  pointed  out,  it  is  most  wonderful  that  we  should 
know  anything. 

Yet  if  we  deny  or  doubt  "  the  law  of  contradiction  "  we 
fall,  as  before  said,  into  the  most  unutterable  absurdity — 

1  See  ante,  p.  56. 


246  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

that  of  absolute  scepticism,  which  shows,  by  a  reductio  ad 
absurdum,  that  our  denial,  or  doubt,  was  itself  absurd,  and 
that  we  must  admit  that  law's  universal  validity. 

But,  once  more,  it  is  no  mere  law  of  our  own  minds,  no 
affair  of  mere  logic,  since,  if  we  are  to  accept  as  absolutely 
true  what  our  reason  declares  to  be  self-evident,  it  is  a  law 
which  applies  to  all  things  from  physical  phenomena  to 
mental  states.  Such  we  have  seen  to  be  the  case  with  re- 
spect to  the  various  instances  we  have  put  forward  as 
examples.  When  we  say  that  the  number  of  balls  in  a 
bag  cannot  at  the  same  time  be  both  "  odd  "  and  "  even," 
we  are  certain  that  this  is  not  a  truth  due  to  our  organ- 
isation, but  to  the  real  necessary  objective  conditions  of 
existence  of  the  balls  themselves.  Our  reason  declares 
that  the  law  of  contradiction  is  no  "  form  of  thought  "  im- 
posed on  our  intellect,  but  is  a  certain  and  inevitable  law  of 
objective  existence  independent  of  our  intellect. 

To  doubt  this  would  be  to  destroy  all  certainty,  since  it  is 
a  fundamental  truth  on  which  all  reasoning  depends. 

If  we  could  not  be  sure  that  the  fact  that  "  all  men  are 
mortal  "  did  not  necessarily  imply  that  none  could  live 
forever,  we  could  never  infer  the  mortality  of  anyone  as 
a  consequence  of  his  humanity.  Thus  for  anyone  to 
attempt  such  a  task  as  that  of  "proving"  the  law  of 
contradiction  would  be,  in  the  highest  degree,  absurd, 
since  he  would  be  compelled  already  to  assume  its  cer- 
tainty at  the  very  outset  of  his  demonstration — at  the 
very  first  assertion  he  made. 

Our  perception,  therefore,  of  the  necessary  validity  of  the 
law  of  contradiction,  teaches  us  both  an  absolute  verity  with 
respect  to  objective  existences — with  respect  to  the  matter 
of  all  science — as  well  as  the  existence  of  our  own  mental 
perception  thereof. 

Another  principle  of  universal  application  and  self-evident 


INTELLECTUAL   ANTECEDENTS   OF  SCIENCE 

validity  is  the  well-known  axiom  :  "  Things  which  are  equal 
to  the  same  thing  are  equal  to  each  other." 

As  with  the  law  of  contradiction,  so  with  this  axiom — it 
is  practically  known  and  constantly  acted  on  in  every-day 
life  without  advertence  to  its  axiomatic  character,  and  even 
without  any  knowledge  of  it  as  a  recognised  truth  at  all. 
The  familiar  application  of  a  yard  measure  to  different  ob- 
jects is  an  amply  sufficient  demonstration  that  such  is  the 
case.  But  the  principle  applies  not  only  to  the  equality  of 
material  things  but  to  every  kind  of  equality — equality 
of  motion,  illumination,  and  feeling — and  it  is  evidently  a 
principle  of  objective  validity,  and  is  a  law  of  things  no  less 
than  of  thought. 

This  axiom  about  equality,  though  it  can  be  illustrated 
by  any  number  of  instances,  can  never  be  proved  by  reason- 
ing. It  is  a  self-evident  truth  which  reposes  on  its  own  evi- 
dence— as  do  the  other  axioms  of  mathematics.  The  same 
may  be  said  of  the  fundamental  laws  of  mathematics  and 
geometry. 

Yet  a  very  curious  argument  against  the  objective  validity 
of  our  perceptions  in  such  matters  has  been  put  forward  by 
persons  no  less  distinguished  than  the  late  Professors  Clif- 
ford and  Helmholtz.  Their  object  in  advancing  it  was  to 
show  by  an  example  how  truths  which  appear  necessary  to 
us  are  not  objectively  necessary.  But  the  result  of  their 
efforts  was  the  direct  contrary  of  what  they  intended. 
Their  intention  evidently  was  to  support  the  proposition, 
"  We  can  know  no  truths  to  be  absolutely  necessary,"  but 
the  result  was  to  show  that  even  according  to  them  some 
truths  are  (and  were,  even  in  their  own  eyes)  absolutely  ne- 
cessary. The  necessary  truths  they  proposed  to  controvert 
were  :  (i)  "  A  straight  line  is  the  shortest  one  which  can  be 
drawn  between  two  points,"  and  (2)  "  Two  straight  lines 
cannot  enclose  a  space." 


248  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

To  prove  their  contention  they  imagined  the  existence  of 
curious  living  creatures  possessed  of  length  and  breadth  but 
devoid  of  thickness,  living  on  a  sphere  with  the  surface  of 
which  their  bodies  coincided.  They  were  supposed  to  have 
experience  of  length  and  breadth  in  curves,  but  none  of 
height  or  depth,  or  of  any  straight  lines.  To  such  creatures, 
it  was  said,  our  geometrical  truths  would  not  appear  to  be 
"  truths  "  at  all.  A  straight  line  for  them  would  not  be  the 
shortest  line  between  two  points,  while  two  parallel  lines 
prolonged  would  enclose  a  space. 

But  beings  so  extraordinarily  defective  might  well  be  sup- 
posed incapable  of  perceiving  geometrical  truths  evident 
enough  to  others  less  imperfect — such  as  ourselves.  Never- 
theless, if  they  could  at  all  conceive  of  the  things  we  denote 
by  the  terms  "  straight  lines  "  and  "  parallel  lines,"  then- 
there  is  nothing  to  show  that  they  could  not  also  perceive 
those  same  necessary  truths  concerning  them  which  are 
evident  to  us. 

It  is  strange  that  the  very  men  who  brought  forward  this 
fanciful  objection  actually  showed,  by  the  way  they  made 
it,  that  they  themselves  perceive  the  necessary  truths  of 
those  very  geometrical  relations  the  necessity  for  which  they 
verbally  denied.  For  how,  otherwise,  could  they  affirm 
what  would  or  would  not  be  the  necessary  results  attending 
such  imaginary  conditions  ?  How  could  they  confidently 
declare  what  perceptions  such  conditions  would  certainly 
produce,  unless  they  were  themselves  convinced  of  the 
validity  of  the  laws  regulating  the  experiences  of  such 
beings  ?  Anyone  who  should  affirm  (as  they  did)  that  they 
can  perceive  what  would  necessarily  be  the  truth  with  re- 
gard to  the  perceptions  of  such  beings,  would  thereby  im- 
plicitly assert  the  existence  of  some  necessary  truths,  or  else 
their  own  argument  itself  must  fail  as  utterly  futile. 

There  is  one  more  general  principle  which,  for  the  end  we 


INTELLECTUAL  ANTECEDENTS  OF  SCIENCE         249 

have  in  view,  we  must  endeavour  to  depict  as  fully  as  we 
can,  namely,  the  principle  of  causation.  It  is,  however,  so 
important  in  our  eyes  that  we  will  reserve  its  treatment  for 
the  following  chapter,  and  terminate  the  present  one  by  pre- 
senting to  our  readers  the  remarks  we  have  yet  to  make 
with  respect  to  the  process  of  reasoning. 

The  process  of  deduction,  its  validity,  and  the  force  of  the 
word  "  therefore,"  have  been  already  referred  to  in  our 
fourth  chapter,1  but  here  they  must  be  considered  more 
fully. 

Of  the  many  truths  to  a  perception  of  which  the  human 
mind  has  attained,  a  large  proportion  have  been  reached  by 
reasoning,  and  the  reasoning  process  is,  as  we  all  know,  one 
so  important  even  to  the  progress  of  science,  that  any  at- 
tempt to  dispense  with  its  use  would  be  an  endeavour  fit 
only  for  a  lunatic.  For  an  exploration  of  the  groundwork 
of  science,  a  clear  perception  of  the  validity  of  the  process 
of  reasoning  is  an  indispensable  antecedent.  Of  course,  it 
is  in  the  first  place  necessary  that  all  reasoning  should  be 
strictly  logical.  Logic  has  two  ends  in  view :  one  is  to  teach 
us  how  to  avoid  certain  errors,  the  commission  of  which 
would  vitiate  all  our  reasoning;  the  other  is  the  manifesta- 
tion of  truths  which  are  involved  in,  and  depend  upon,  the 
recognition  of  other  antecedent  truths,  from  the  truth  of 
which  they  necessarily  follow  as  consequences.  It  is  with 
the  latter  end  of  logic  we  are  here  concerned,  and  we  have 
to  make  manifest  the  fact  that  the  conclusion  of  any  prop- 
erly constructed  syllogism,  the  premisses  of  which  are  true, 
is  a  proposition  which,  as  a  consequence,  is  necessarily  and 
self-evidently  true. 

If  it  is  really  a  fact  that  all  female  whales  have  mammary 
glands,  or  organs  for  suckling  their  young,  then  if  a  particu- 
lar animal  just  caught  turns  out  to  be  a  female  whale,  we 

1  See  ante,  p.  103. 


250  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

may,  in  that  case,  most  confidently  expect  to  find  it  pro- 
vided with  such  organs. 

But  many  objections  have  been  made  to  such  syllogistic 
reasoning  on  the  ground  that  the  conclusion  is  already  con- 
tained in  the  premisses.  If  "  all  men  are  mortal,"  such 
objectors  say,  then  those  who  know  that,  know  that  any 
special  man,  such  as  Socrates,  is  mortal  also,  and,  therefore, 
the  assertion  that  he  is  mortal  can  be  nothing  more  than  a 
repetition  of  part  of  the  major  premiss.  Here  then,  they 
say,  we  have  no  true  "  inference  "  at  all,  but  merely  a  re- 
statement. We  do  not  "  conclude  "  that  Socrates  is  mor- 
tal, but  only  say  over  again,  with  the  use  of  his  name,  what 
was  said  before  without  the  use  of  his  name. 

Now,  of  course,  the  mortality  of  Socrates,  and  the  mam- 
mary glands  of  the  freshly  caught  female  whale,  were  im- 
plicitly included  in  what  was  previously  known  about  "  all 
men  "  and  "  all  female  whales."  Unless  they  were  thus 
"  implicit,"  they  could  never  be  seen  to  follow  as  explicit 
consequences  in  the  conclusions  of  the  respective  syllogisms. 
But  the  syllogism  really  does  afford  fresh  knowledge  to  the 
mind,  and  often  very  important  knowledge,  by  making 
truths  explicit  and  manifest,  so  that  they  can  be  most  clearly 
recognised,  which  before  were  merely  implicit,  and  so  were 
not  necessarily  obvious. 

There  is,  indeed,  a  very  great  difference  between  implicit 
and  explicit  knowledge.  To  cause  a  knowledge  which  we 
only  possess  "  implicitly  "  to  become  "  explicitly  "  present 
to  our  minds,  may  often  be,  in  effect,  to  give  us  fresh 
knowledge  altogether — practically  to  give  us  a  knowledge 
of  something  whereof  we  had  before  no  available  or  conscious 
knowledge  at  all. 

Let  us  suppose  that  a  youth  has  learned  by  heart  the 
characters  which  respectively  distinguish  the  four  classes  of 
backboned  animals — beasts,  birds,  reptiles,  and  fishes — but 


INTELLECTUAL   ANTECEDENTS  OF   SCIENCE         2$l 

that  he  has  seen  and  knows  very  little  about  specimens  of 
different  kinds.  It  would  be  by  no  means  wonderful  if  such 
a  youth  should  consider  a  porpoise  to  be  a  kind  of  fish. 
But  his  teacher  might  remind  hirn  that  all  creatures  possess- 
ing certain  characters  of  brain  and  heart  were  beasts.  He 
might  thus  come  to  see  that  the  porpoise,  which  he  took  to 
be  a  fish,  must,  since  it  has  those  characters,  really  be  a 
beast. 

Referring  again  to  the  character  of  this  class  of  beasts,  he 
might  further  exclaim,  "  This  fish-like  thing,  when  alive, 
must,  as  being  really  a  beast,  have  had  warm  blood."  His 
conclusion  would  have  been  a  perfectly  correct  one,  and  in 
this  way  his  inferences  would  really  have  supplied  him  with 
knowledge  which  he  certainly  did  not  possess  before. 

So  great,  indeed,  is  the  difference  between  explicit  and 
implicit  knowledge,  that  the  latter  may  not  deserve  to  be 
called  "  knowledge  "  at  all.  Probably  there  is  no  opponent 
or  derider  of  the  syllogism  who  will  venture  to  affirm  that  a 
student  who  has  learned,  and  recollects,  the  axioms  and 
definitions  of  Euclid,  can,  by  that  fact  alone,  have  obtained 
such  a  real  knowledge  of  all  the  geometrical  truths  the  work 
contains,  that  he  will  fully  understand  all  its  propositions 
and  theorems  without  having  to  study  them.  Yet  all  the 
propositions,  etc.,  of  Euclid  are  implicitly  contained  in  the 
definitions  and  axioms.  Nevertheless,  in  spite  of  that, 
the  student  will  have  to  study  much  and  go  through  many 
processes  of  inference,  by  which  he  may  be  enabled  to 
recognise  these  implicit  truths  explicitly,  before  he  can  truly 
be  said  to  have  any  real  knowledge  of  them. 

Of  course,  in  the  very  rare  instances  in  which  the  major 
premiss  expresses  a  truth  which  has  been  arrived  at  by  an 
examination  of  every  instance  referred  to  in  it — a  "  com- 
plete induction  " — there  is  nothing  implicit. 

Thus,  if  we  knew  with  absolute  certainty  that  every  man, 


252  THE  GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

woman,  and  child  in  some  Indian  village  was  a  leper,  then 
to  say  that  a  man  came  from  that  village  would  be  equi- 
valent to  saying  explicitly  that  he  was  a  leper.  In  such  a 
case  there  would  be  no  evolution  of  implicit  into  explicit 
truth — there  would  be  no  process  of  inference,  and  the  word 
44  therefore  "  would,  if  used,  be  quite  out  of  place. 

Such  cases  are,  however,  most  rare.  No  one  can  pretend 
to  know  by  a  complete  induction  that  all  the  radii  of  a  circle 
are  equal.  It  is  absolutely  impossible  to  examine  all  exist- 
ing circles;  besides,  the  assertion  that  all  the  radii  of  a  circle 
are  equal  applies  not  only  to  all  existing,  but  also  to  all 
possible,  circles. 

Similarly,  if  we  are  shown  a  triangular  figure  and  are 
asked,  "Are  its  angles  equal  to  two  right  angles  ?  "  we  may 
not  be  able  at  once  to  answer  the  question  by  directly  in- 
specting the  figure.  If,  however,  we  already  know  that 
the  angles  of  every  triangle  are  together  equal  to  two  right 
angles,  then  we  should  be  able  at  once  to  infer  the  truth, 
and  to  say  that  in  so  far  as  the  figure  approximated  to  an 
ideally  perfect  triangle,  would  its  three  angles  approximate 
to  two  absolutely  perfect  right  angles.  We  should  arrive  at 
this  truth  mediately,  and  reach  the  conclusion  by  the  com- 
bined help  of  a  major  and  minor  premiss. 

A  very  great  part  of  the  knowledge  we  acquire  through- 
out our  whole  lives  is  acquired,  in  this  indirect  way,  by  the 
help  of  that  mental  process  which  is  expressed  by  the  word 
"  therefore." 

But  we  have  no  special  reason  to  be  proud  of  that  word, 
since  it  implies  that  we  are  compelled  to  get  at  truth  by  a 
very  roundabout  process.  Were  our  intellect  of  a  much 
higher  order,1  it  is  conceivable  that  we  might  be  able  to 
see  equally  well,  and  at  one  and  the  same  time,  all  those 
truths  which  a  proposition  may  contain  implicitly  as  well  as 

1  See  ante,  p.  102. 


INTELLECTUAL  ANTECEDENTS  OF  SCIENCE        253 

explicitly.  In  that  case,  of  course,  we  should  be  saved  the 
trouble  of  any  process  of  inference.  The  truths  we  now 
have  to  gather  indirectly,  would  then  be  directly  evidentjo 
us,  just  as  our  own  actual  mental  activity  is  evident  to  us. 
Only  having,  however,  the  imperfect  nature  we  possess,  we 
must  .be  content  with  the  more  laborious,  though  practically 
sufficient,  process  of  inference  or  ratiocination.  We  must 
be  content  to  gain  actual  knowledge  from  implicit  truth  by 
placing  propositions  side  by  side,  and  so  evolving  explicit 
truth  as  a  consequence  of  that  process  properly  performed. 

Reasoning,  then,  is  an  indirect  process  of  attaining  truths, 
and  one  which,  when  properly  carried  out,  is  necessarily  and 
self-evidently  true.  It  is  not,  however,  the  highest  kind  of 
act  our  intellect  is  capable  of.  Its  highest  possible  act  is 
the  direct  apprehension,  or  intellectual  intuition,  of  a  uni- 
versal and  necessary  truth  or  of  a  concrete  fact  as  absolutely 
certain  and  self-evident. 

Just,  however,  as  certainty,  self-perception,  the  principle 
of  contradiction,  and  axiomatic  truths,  may  be  perceived 
directly  with  reflex  advertence  to  each,  so  also  correct 
reasoning  can  be  carried  on,  and  the  force  of  the  term 
"  therefore  "  (as  the  expression  of  a  truth  which  is  a  con- 
sequent from  truths  antecedently  known)  appreciated,  with- 
out any  reflex  consciousness  of  ratiocination  as  a  process, 
and  a  process  performed  by  us. 

It  is,  of  all  things,  important  to  note  and  keep  in  mind 
the  truth,  that  "  thought  "  as  we  know  and  experience  it, 
is  our  only  means  of  arriving  at  knowledge,  and  gives  the 
highest  certainty  thereto.  It  is  evidently  necessary  to  state 
this  very  distinctly,  since  there  are  men  who  profess  to  be 
philosophers  and  yet  ignore  or  deny  this  truth.  To  sup- 
pose that  by  any  kind  of  reasoning  we  can  come  to  under- 
stand what  we  can  never  think,  may  seem  an  utterly 
incredible  folly ;  yet  at  a  meeting  of  a  metaphysical  society 


254  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

in  London,  a  speaker,  a  few  years  ago,  expressly  declared 
"  thought  "  to  be  a  misleading  term,  the  use  of  which 
should  be  avoided. 

"  Thoughts  "  may  be,  and  should  be,  carefully  examined 
and  criticised ;  but  however  much  we  may  do  so,  and  what- 
ever the  results  we  may  arrive  at,  such  results  can,  mani- 
festly, only  be  reached  by  thoughts  and  must  be  expressed 
by  the  aid  of  our  thoughts. 

We  are  far  indeed  from  denying  that  unconscious  activities 
of  various  orders  take  place  in  our  being;  yet,  whatever  in- 
fluence such  activities  may  have,  they  cannot  affect  our 
judgments  save  by  and  in  thoughts.  Even  if  a  man  should 
become  convinced  that  his  thoughts  were  worthless  tools, 
he  could  only  arrive  at  that  conclusion  by  making  use  of  the 
very  tools  he  declared  to  be  worthless.  What,  then,  ought 
his  conclusion  to  be  worth  even  in  his  own  eyes  ? 

We  can  never  justify  reason,  because  we  must  employ 
reason  in  criticising  and  seeking  to  justify  it,  and  so  work  in 
a  circle.  Not  to  trust  our  reason  before  we  have  justified 
it,  is  to  be,  as  Hegel  said,  like  the  prudent  GxoTtaGTiHoz 
who  would  not  enter  the  water  till  he  had  first  learned  to 
swim. 

It  is  simply  impossible  by  reason  to  get  behind  conscious 
thought,  and  our  thoughts  are,  and  must  be,  our  only  means 
of  investigating  problems  however  fundamental. 

Yet  some  persons  appear  to  believe  that  our  convictions 
even  as  to  self-evident  truths  may  be  invalidated  on  ac- 
count of  the  causes  which  have,  or  may  have,  been  at  work 
in  eliciting  them.  This  question  forces  us  to  consider  the 
principle  of  causation,  its  nature  and  effects,  in  this  relation 
amongst  others.  To  that  consideration,  then,  the  next 
chapter  will  be  devoted. 


CHAPTER  IX 
CAUSES  OF  SCIENTIFIC  KNOWLEDGE 

IN  the  introductory  chapter  to  the  present  work  we  ob- 
served how  constant  was  the  desire  of  ordinary  men  to 
know  the  "  how  "  and  "  why  "  of  things — to  know  the 
causes  and  circumstances  of  events.  To  know  this  is,  as 
before  said,  above  all,  the  aim  and  object  of  science,  and  to 
the  successful  man  of  science  the  old  adage  eminently  ap- 
plies: "  Felix  qui potuit  rerum  cognoscere  causas."  But  not 
only  the  devotee  of  science,  but  every  man  on  every  day  of 
his  life,  experiences  what  he  regards  as  the  effects  of  causes, 
and  deems  that  he  produces  effects  himself.  Whatever 
may  have  brought  it  about,  it  is  plain  that  notions  of  causes 
as  really  acting,  and  of  effects  which  are  produced  by  them, 
have  somehow  become  embedded  in  the  mind  of  man  and 
are  ready  to  start  up  and  manifest  themselves  at  any  mo- 
ment. Indeed,  so  strong  is  the  notion  of  the  necessity  of 
causation,  to  account  for  all  we  see  about  us,  often  felt  to  be, 
that  it  has  given  rise  to  the  assertion,  so  often  made,  that 
"  everything  must  have  a  cause." 

Yet  such  a  dictum  is  quite  untenable,  and  would  lead  us 
to  a  regressus  ad  infinitum,  since,  should  our  reasonings  and 
our  intuitions  convince  us  there  must  be  a  first  cause,  we 
should  have  then  to  postulate  another  cause  for  that  first 
cause's  existence,  and  so  on  without  end. 

But  if  we  examine  our  own  minds  as  to  the  nature  of  our 

255 


256  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

conception  of  cause,  and  especially  what  seems  to  call  it 
forth,  we  shall  find  that  it  stands  in  close  relation  to  our 
perception  and  idea  of  "  change." 

When  some  change  occurs,  or  when  anything  strikes  us 
as  being  a  new  thing,  we  spontaneously  look  out  to  see 
what  has  brought  it  about — what  is  its  cause.  And  very 
often  our  investigation  is  quite  satisfactorily  repaid.  We 
find  what  the  cause  was,  and  that  we  can  by  experiment 
again  produce  the  effect  whenever  we  will. 

Think  over  the  matter  as  we  may,  when  we  perceive  a 
change,  or  that  a  new  existence  has  come  into  being,  we 
are  at  once  certain  that  some  cause  must  have  produced  it. 
If  we  have  gone  out  of  doors,  leaving  our  library  window 
open,  and  on  our  return  find  it  shut,  we  are  at  once  abso- 
lutely certain  that  some  person  or  thing  must  have  shut  it. 
If  an  infant  begins  to  cry  violently  without  any  external 
cause,  we  are  sure  that  it  has  experienced  some  painful 
feeling,  produced  through  some  internal  modification.  If 
we  find  in  a  bird-cage  which  has  long  been  shut  up  and 
tenantless,  a  living  thrush,  the  notes  of  which  have  attracted 
our  attention,  we  are  at  once  as  certain  as  it  is  possible  to 
be  that,  if  it  did  not  find  its  way  in  itself,  someone  must 
have  placed  there  this,  for  us,  new  existence. 

This  mental  conviction  of  ours  is  no  negative  one,  such, 
e.  g.,  as  that  "  we  cannot  conceive  such  changes  or  new 
existences  without  a  cause,"  but  that  we  positively  do  see 
"  that  every  change  or  new  existence  is,  and  must  be,  due  to 
some  cause. ' ' 

This  proposition,  indeed,  expresses  an  intellectual  intui- 
tion which  is  for  us  a  necessary  and  universal  truth,  and  one 
self-evident.  As  such,  of  course,  it  is  quite  incapable  of 
proof ;  but  a  little  pondering  over  it  will,  we  think,  make  its 
self-evidence  quite  clear,  and  show  that  it  is  no  blind  habit 
of  mind  "  due  to  custom,"  as  Hume  said  (as  if  the  origin 


CAUSES  OF  SCIENTIFIC  KNOWLEDGE 

of  any  idea  could  be  explained  by  such  a  notion !),  but  is  one 
seen  to  be  necessarily  true. 

Thus,  in  the  first  place,  a  new  thing  could  never  have 
caused  itself,  because  it  could  never  have  acted  before  it 
came  into  existence.  It  must,  therefore,  have  been  brought 
into  being  by  something  else. 

Secondly,  every  change  in  anything  which  already  exists 
is,  in  fact,  a  new  mode  of  being;  and  therefore  equally  de- 
mands a  cause  for  its  existence.  It  must,  then,  be  due 
either  to  something  distinct  from  it,  or  to  some  antecedent 
mode  of  being  of  that  which  now  exists  in  its  new  mode. 

Thus,  when  we  awake  from  sleep,  our  awakening  must  be 
due  either  to  something  external  which  has  awakened  us,  or 
to  some  change  which  has  taken  place  in  our  own  organism. 
In  the  latter  case,  that  change  or  new  mode  in  our  being, 
which  we  call  "  wakening  from  sleep,"  had  for  its  cause  an 
antecedent  state  of  our  body — increased  vigour  of  the  cir- 
culation or  what-not. 

Moreover,  all  the  various  objects  we  see  or  feel  must,  each 
of  them,  we  know,  be  a  result  of  the  action  of  some  cause  or 
causes  external  to  it.  This  is,  of  course,  most  manifestly  evi- 
dent with  respect  to  every  artistic  product,  and  everything 
which  has  been  made  by  man.  But  a  little  reflection  will 
show  that  the  same  is  the  case  with  all  the  products  of  nat- 
ure. No  stone  we  tread  upon,  no  patch  of  sand  or  mud,  can 
have  come  to  be  what  it  is,  save  by  the  action  of  antecedent 
causes.  The  shape  of  every  mountain  is,  at  least,  largely 
due  to  the  action  of  water,  and  so  on.  And  this  law  of 
causation  applies  to  the  most  minute  and  simplest,  as  well 
as  to  the  largest  and  most  complex,  of  bodies.  Even  pieces 
of  matter,  which,  so  far  as  we  yet  know,  consist  of  but  one 
chemical  element — such  as  a  fragment  of  gold  or  carbon — 
owe  the  shape,  place,  and  the  relations  in  which  we  find 
them,  to  conditioning  causes.  And  carbon  in  its  brilliant 


258  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

condition  as  a  diamond  (a  state  we  term  crystalline)  is 
equally  an  effect  of  causes ;  and,  as  yet,  all  the  causes  which 
have  produced  all  the  diverse  and  most  definite  forms  of 
crystallisation,  which  are  characteristic  of  different  minerals, 
are  for  us  mysterious. 

Any  and  every  such  object  demands  a  cause  for  its  actually 
being  in  the  place  it  is,  at  the  time  it  is  there,  for  its  size, 
its  shape,  etc.,  and  for  all  its  relations  to  surrounding  things, 
as  well  as  for  any  special  qualities  of  its  own  internal  con- 
ditions. These  special  conditions  would  demand  a  cause, 
even  if  such  a  body  existed  alone  and  by  itself  in  an  other- 
wise empty  universe — if  we  may  permit  ourselves  to  frame 
for  a  moment  so  absurd  an  hypothesis. 

Therefore,  everything  which  can  be  seen  not  to  contain  a 
sufficient  cause  for  its  own  existence  within  itself,  must  be 
due  to  some  cause  or  causes  external  to  it.  Nothing  which 
is  composite,  capable  of  division,  or  which  gives  evidence  of 
having  had  a  beginning,  can  be  so  seen  to  contain  within 
itself  a  sufficient  cause  for  its  being. 

Moreover,  this  perception  of  the  necessity  of  causation  is 
not,  as  before  said,  the  mere  result  of  a  mental  impotence  of 
the  imagination — it  is  not  a  negative  inability  to  imagine  a 
complex  thing  uncaused — but  a  positive  and  active  power 
of  perception.  Let  the  reader  first  consider  his  own  idea  of 
a  stone  of  some  definite  shape  and  size,  made  of  two  or 
more  mineral  substances.  Then  let  him  ask  himself  whether 
he  does  not  actively  and  positively  see  that  its  shape  and 
composition  must  positively  be  due  to  influences  of  different 
kinds,  or  whether  he  finds  himself  merely  passive  and  un- 
able to  help  himself  to  an  actively  intelligent  conviction  on 
the  subject. 

The  idea  of  a  "  cause  "  is  closely  connected  with  the  con- 
ception of  "  power  "  or  "  force  " — ideas  gained  through  our 
own  personal  experience.  When  we  make  strenuous  efforts, 


CAUSES  OF  SCIENTIFIC  KNOWLEDGE  259 

or  are  overborne  by  the  active  energy  of  somebody  or  some- 
thing else,  we  have  this  experience.  We  know,  also,  our 
own  power  to  think  and  act,  and  the  influence  exercised  by 
our  own  will.  But  there  is  another  yet  more  noteworthy 
instance  of  the  exercise  of  power  which  may  come  within 
our  experience.  When  under  strong  temptation  to  indulge 
in  some  very  keen  and  entrancing  pleasure,  we  can  easily 
perceive,  if  we  will,  the  strong  hold  the  desire  for  self- 
indulgence  has  over  us  and  its  power  and  force  in  attracting 
our  will  in  one  direction.  Similarly,  when  the  thought  of 
most  repulsive  consequences  which  will  probably,  or  cer- 
tainly, follow  such  indulgence  occurs  to  us,  we  may  feel  the 
power  exercised  by  that  thought  in  repelling  us  from  it  and 
in  some  contrary  direction. 

The  idea  of  "  power  "  or  "  force  "  is  a  primary  ultimate 
idea  which  cannot  be  resolved  into  other  more  fundamental 
or  elementary  conceptions.  If  the  reader  doubts  this,  we 
would  recommend  him  to  try  so  to  resolve  it  himself. 

But  the  reality  of  our  conception  of  cause — of  our  percep- 
tion of  the  universal  and  necessary  truth  of  the  law  of  causa- 
tion— has  been  denied  on  the  following  grounds.  It  is 
objected  that  though  we  have,  of  course,  seen  one  condition, 
relation,  or  event  follow  another  condition,  relation,  or  event, 
we  have  never  once  perceived  any  inflow  or  passage  of  in- 
fluence from  one  thing  to  another;  and  yet  the  law  of  causa- 
tion implies  the  existence  of  such  a  thing.  We  have  never, 
it  is  further  stated,  really  seen  or  felt  any  "  causation,"  but 
only  sequences  of  one  kind  or  another.  Therefore,  it  is  con- 
cluded, there  is  probably  nothing  but  sequence,  and  our 
idea  of  the  passage  of  influence  in  causation  is  a  mere  mis- 
take, derived  from  foolishly  transferring  in  imagination  to 
external  things  that  "  feeling  of  effort  "  which  we  experience 
in  our  actions,  such  mistake  being  then  perpetuated  by 
custom. 


260  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

This  objection  is  very  easily  answered.  It  is,  of  course, 
quite  true  that  we  never  see  the  act  of  physical  causation 
over  and  above  the  things  which  act  and  react,  because  it  is 
invisible  as  well  as  intangible.  But  though  our  senses  can- 
not perceive  it,  our  intellect  can  and  does.  When  we  knock 
a  nail  into  a  board  with  a  hammer,  it  is  simply  nonsense  to 
tell  us  that  because  we  can  only  perceive  the  nail,  the  board, 
and  the  hammer,  we  cannot  know  that  we  exert  a  force 
which  makes  the  nail  go  in. 

But  there  is  one  instance  in  which  a  man  can  be  aware, 
through  his  actual  feelings,  not  only  of  an  antecedent  and 
consequent,  and  the  relation  of  causality  between  them, 
but  also  the  very  bond  or  nexus  between  them  may  be  not 
only  distinctly  perceived  by  our  intellect,  but  its  inflow  actu- 
ally felt.  This  is  whenever  a  man  is  in  doubt  about  what 
course  to  pursue  owing  to  his  being  drawn  in  different  direc- 
tions by  different  motives.  Then  the  inflow  and  force  of 
the  conflicting  motives  acting  upon  his  own  mind  can  be 
distinctly  perceived  by  him.  This  instance  is  substantially 
the  same  as  that  we  before  adduced  with  respect  to  our  per- 
ception of  the  emission  of  "  force."  We  can  all  also 
perceive  force  when  anything  resists  our  will.  Thus,  let  us 
suppose  that  the  stem  of  a  small  tree  has  been  partly  sawn 
through,  and  that  we  then  try  whether  we  can  pull  it  down. 
If  the  coherence  of  the  part  not  sawn  through  is  still  very 
great,  we  may  have  to  exert  all  our  force  to  overcome  it. 
When  at  last  we  have  succeeded,  and  are  exhausted  with 
our  efforts,  we  may  feel  very  vividly  that  anyone  who  denied 
we  had  caused  the  tree  to  come  down  must  be  as  great  a 
lunatic  as  anyone  who  denied  the  real  objective  existence  of 
the  tree  itself. 

But  it  may  be  said  (we  know  it  may,  because  such  follies 
have  actually  been  printed)  that,  though  we  may  be  con- 
scious of  our  own  force,  we  err  if  we  assert  efficient  causation 


CAUSES  OF  SCIENTIFIC  KNOWLEDGE  26 1 

in  any  other  instance.  In  fact,  Mr.  Herbert  Spencer  has 
said  that  by  such  an  assertion  we  make  the  great  mistake  of 
attributing  to  inanimate  things  feelings  like  those  we  ex- 
perience in  making  such  physical  efforts.  Surely  greater 
nonsense  has  rarely  been  written.  Let  us  suppose  the 
partly-sawn-through  tree  to  be  not  even  touched  by  us,  but 
that  a  gale  has  sprung  up  which,  after  having  swayed  it  to 
and  fro,  breaks  it  off,  and  prostrates  it,  just  as  we  have  sup- 
posed it  prostrated  by  human  efforts.  Are  we  not  then  to 
say  that  the  wind  has  exerted  as  much  force  as  was  ours  ? 
Can  we  not  say  this  confidently,  without  being  such  idiots 
as  to  attribute  "  feelings  "  to  the  wind  ? 

Truly,  then,  we  have  in  our  observations  and  experiments 
with  external  things,  as  well  as  in  the  consciousness  of  our 
own  efforts  and  the  action  of  motives  on  our  minds,  actual 
experience  of  causation,  while,  as  we  have  seen, .  a  very 
moderate  study  of  the  matter  suffices  to  show  us  that  the 
law  of  causation  is  a  necessary  and  universal  truth  which 
carries  with  it  its  own  evidence. 

A  clear  perception  of  the  law  of  causation  gives  efficient 
support  to  a  great  principle,  without  which  all  science 
would  be  absolutely  impossible.  This  is  the  law  of  the 
Uniformity  of  Nature*  It  is  true  that  the  ordinary  ex- 
perience of  mankind  makes  men  perfectly  contented  that 
things  will  take  their  normal  course,  e.  g.,  that  the  sun  will 
daily  rise  and  set,  and  that  any  tool  dropped  from  the 
hand  will  at  once  fall  towards  the  ground  unless  otherwise 
upheld.  In  circumstances  which  seem  to  recur  under,  so 
far  as  we  can  see,  the  same  conditions  as  those  wherein 
they  occurred  before,  we  naturally  expect  the  same  results 
to  ensue  as  we  before  met  with ;  and  such  expectations 
are  fulfilled. 

Nevertheless,    mere    common    sense    and    human    testi- 

1  See  ante,  p.  106. 


262  THE    GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

mony  cannot  suffice,  any  more  than  the  experience  of  any 
individual  can  suffice,  to  show  that  the  uniformity  of  nature 
is,  and  must  always  be,  positively  certain  and  absolute. 
Our  mere  observation  of  natural  laws  can  never  suffice  to 
enable  us  to  affirm  that  never  and  nowhere  is  there  a  law- 
less condition  of  things,  or  that  such  a  lawless  condition 
may  not  one  day  come  within  our  own  sphere  of  experience — 
utter  irregularity  of  co-existences  and  sequences.  But  here 
that  necessary  and  self-evident  principle,  the  law  of  causa- 
tion, comes  in,  and  supplies  us  with  the  basis  for  science 
which  is  so  imperatively  required.  For,  since  there  can  be 
no  change  without  a  cause,  it  follows  there  can  be  no  differ- 
ence between  the  results  of  two  perfectly  similar  sets  of 
antecedent  conditions,  and  that  the  more  completely  two 
sets  of  conditions  are  alike,  the  more  completely  similar  will 
be  the  results  produced  by  them. 

Thus  the  uniformity  of  nature  is  a  necessary  result  of  the 
law  of  causation,  which  necessary  and  self-evident  truth 
gives  the  efficient  and  necessary  support  to  that  expectation 
which  good  sense  and  human  testimony  combine  to  produce 
in  us. 

But  there  must  also  be  a  certain  proportion  between  any 
physical  or  mental  cause  and  its  effects;  and  our  reason 
assures  us  that  we  can  to  a  considerable  extent  judge  as  to 
causes  by  the  effects  they  have  produced.  We  can  often 
form  a  rational  judgment  as  to  the  adequacy  of  some  cause 
to  produce  a  given  effect.  No  child  with  a  toy  hammer 
could  level  the  Great  Pyramid  of  Egypt,  and  no  ignorant 
peasant  could  translate  and  adequately  comment  upon 
Plato's  Symposium.  No  creature  devoid  of  intellect  could 
ever  perform  a  truly  virtuous  action,  for  it  could  have  no 
perception  about  ethical  relations.  That  a  cause  must 
be  adequate  in  order  that  a  given  effect  may  be  produced, 
is  an  absolute,  universal,  and  necessary  truth,  no  less  than 


CAUSES  OF  SCIENTIFIC  KNOWLEDGE  263 

is  the  law  of  causation  itself,  as  is  commonly  if  tacitly 
assumed.1 

But,  as  we  before  observed,  an  objection  is  often  raised  to 
this  assertion  on  the  ground  that  there  is  no  resemblance 
between  the  steel  blade  of  a  dagger  and  the  wound  it  can  in- 
flict or  between  a  red-hot  coal  and  the  burn  it  may  occasion. 
How,  we  are  asked,  could  we  know,  a  priori,  the  "  ade- 
quacy "  of  cither  to  produce  the  "  injuries  "  they  respect- 
ively cause  ? 

But,  in  the  first  place,  there  is  a  certain  resemblance 
between  the  width  of  the  cut  and  that  of  the  dagger's 
blade,  and  between  the  size  of  the  coal  and  the  extent  of 
the  burnt  surface.  In  addition  to  that,  it  is  plain,  after  a 
moment's  thought,  that  the  "adequacy"  of  the  cause  to  pro- 
duce the  effect  is  neither  in  the  steel  nor  in  the  coal,  but  in 
these  as  affecting  a  sensitive  organism  which  they  may  in- 
jure. The  organism  and  the  agents  are  together  adequate 
to  produce  the  effects  cited,  and  that  adequacy  is  evident 
to  our  reason,  and  sufficient. 

But  the  one  appeal  of  physical  science  is  to  "experience" 
— to  observation  and  experiment,  and  the  verification  of 
hypotheses  thereby.  And  what  does  experience  teach  us  ? 
In  many  instances,  of  course,  our  ignorance  of  the  intimate 
nature  of,  or  the  powers  and  properties  of,  bodies,  makes  us 
quite  unable  to  anticipate,  a  priori,  what  effects  may  be  pro- 
duced ;  these  we  can  only  learn  by  experience.  But  in 
multitudes  of  every-day  observations,  the  inadequacy  of 
some  things  to  produce  certain  effects  (as  with  the 
child's  hammer  and  the  pyramid)  is  manifest,  as  is  the 
impotence  of  an  ignorant  man  to  teach  Greek,  or  of  an 
impecunious  one  to  lend  a  sum  of  money;  so  that  ex- 
perience fully  bears  out  the  ancient  dictum:  "  Nemo  dat 
quod  non  habet. ' ' 

1  See  ante,  p.  66. 


264  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF   SCIENCE 

We  have  now  passed  in  review  in  the  preceding  and 
present  chapters  the  questions  as  to :  (i)  the  existence  of 
certainty,  and  that  what  is,  exists;  (2)  what  must  be  our 
ultimate  criterion  ;  (3)  our  perception  of  our  own  substantial 
existence ;  (4)  the  validity  of  our  faculty  of  memory ;  (5)  the 
principle  of  contradiction  ;  (6)  mathematical  axioms;  (7)  the 
validity  of  the  reasoning  process ;  and  (8)  the  law  of  causa- 
tion. We  hope  the  views  here  advocated  concerning  these 
questions  may  have  commended  themselves  to  the  judgment 
of  our  readers.  If  so,  we  have  already  succeeded  in  the 
greater  part  of  our  task.  For  there  can  be  no  question  that 
if  the  fundamental  principles  we  have  put  forward  are  neces- 
sary and  universal  truths,  which  carry  with  them  their  own 
evidence  and  constitute  the  ultimate  criteria  of  human 
knowledge,  they  must  also  constitute  a  large  part  of  the 
groundwork  of  all  science. 

These  truths  we  can  recognise  for  what  they  are,  namely, 
absolutely  certain  and  self-evident  facts  and  principles.  But 
however  evident  they  may  be,  it  is  no  less  evident  that  we 
did  not  always  recognise  them.  Not  only  in  our  infancy, 
but  during  childhood  and  early  youth  we  were  either  alto- 
gether ignorant  of  them  or,  at  any  rate,  did  not  take  them 
for  what  we  now  see  them  to  be. 

How,  then,  did  we  come  to  obtain  a  knowledge  of  them, 
and  is  it  possible  that  the  mode  in  which  we  acquired 
them,  whatever  it  may  have  been,  can  give  us  reasonable 
cause  to  mistrust  them,  or  be  half-hearted,  as  it  were,  in  our 
recognition  of  them  as  absolutely  true  facts  and  principles  ? 
Can  we  gain  any  light  as  to  what  may  have  been  the  causes 
of  our  certitude,  and  have  such  causes  any  real  bearing  on 
that  certitude's  validity  ? 

We  have  already  disposed  of  that  most  unreasonable  of 
all  suppositions,  namely,  the  supposition  that  what  we  have 
represented  as  first  principles  can  possibly  be  based  on 


CAUSES  OF  SCIENTIFIC  KNOWLEDGE  26$ 

reasoning.  We  have  seen  '  that  such  a  system  results  in  a 
regressus  ad  infinitum,  and  would  necessarily  emasculate 
reasoning  by  depriving  it  of  its  indispensable  premisses. 
But  some  persons  would  represent  our  deepest  convictions 
as  nothing  but  the  result  of  habit  and  associations  of  images 
and  ideas,  which  have  become  so  inveterate  that  it  is  quite 
impossible  for  us  now  to  detach  ourselves  from  them. 

This  conception  we  have,  it  is  hoped,  incidentally  shown 
to  be  quite  insufficient.  For  how,  in  the  first  place,  could 
habit  give  rise  to  ethical  perceptions  in  beings  who  were 
entirely  devoid  of  them  ?  How  could  habit  formed  amongst 
the  experiences  of  life  have  enabled  us  to  perceive  that  true 
and  absolutely  certain  conclusions  could  never  be  obtained 
through  premisses  which  were  false  or  uncertain  ? a  It  is 
quite  true,  of  course,  that  reason  is  developed  and  main- 
tained by  complex  associations  of  sensations,  images,  and 
ideas,  as  it  is,  in  another  way,  maintained  by  the  food  we 
eat  and  the  air  we  breathe.  But  none  of  these  things,  in 
whatever  combinations,  could  give  rise  to  intellectual  intui- 
tions in  creatures  devoid  of  intellect. 

Other  persons,  again,  who  vehemently  repudiate  the  last- 
noticed  hypothesis,  would  have  us  regard  as  supremely  cer- 
tain, the  truths  which  are  at  first  recognized  by  the  dawning 
intelligence  of  the  child.  Only  such  ideas  do  they  consider 
to  be  what  they  call ' '  a  genuine  testimony  of  consciousness. 
But  why  should  truths  recognised  by  a  dawning  human  in- 
telligence be  worth  more  than  those  recognised  by  a  man's 
intelligence  at  its  full  noontide  ?  It  is  against  all  our  ex- 
perience to  assert  that  the  ideas  of  young  children  are  more 
true  and  profound  than  those  of  full-grown  and  well- 
educated  men.  This  theory  would  be  utterly  absurd  but 
for  a  conception  latent  in  it  and  unexpressed,  which  we 
think  must  be  its  real,  though  unavowed,  foundation.  It  is 

1  See  ante,  p.  103.  2  See  ante,  p.  218. 


266  THE  GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

the  notion  that  the  infant  mind  bears,  as  it  were,  the  fresh 
impress  of  a  Divine  Creator,  on  which  account  its  dicta 
should  be  more  regarded  than  persuasions  of  later  days, 
when  that  mind  has  become  subjected  to  the  corruptions 
and  delusions  prevalent  in  the  world.  This  fancy,  it  seems 
to  us,  must  also  be  the  ground  upon  which  other  men  have 
declared  that  what  we  should  most  trust,  and  may  entirely 
trust,  are  ideas  which  are  a  priori^  and  have  never  been 
gained  by  experience.  For  why  otherwise  could  anyone 
think  we  should  attach  less  importance  and  validity  to  im- 
pressions and  conclusions  which  have  been  gained  by  the 
most  patient  and  painstaking  efforts,  when  large  stores  of 
knowledge  have  been  acquired  in  many  different  ways,  than 
to  others  (did  any  really  exist),  for  the  possession  of  which 
antecedent  experiences  were  in  no  way  necessary  ? 

Obviously,  the  only  ground  upon  which  the  latter  could 
make  any  special  claim  on  our  acceptance  would  be  that 
they  had  been  implanted  in  human  nature  by  "  an  All-wise 
Creator. ' ' 

Yet  it  is  no  less  obvious  that  such  a  conviction  could 
never  serve  as  a  basis  for  our  knowledge,  because  it  would 
first  be  requisite  to  prove  that  "  an  All-wise  Creator  "  exists. 

That  His  existence  is  not  known  by  any  intuition  is  mani- 
fest from  the  fact  that  so  many  books  have  been  written  to 
prove  that  existence,  as  well  as  from  the  circumstance  that 
so  many  persons  doubt  or  positively  disbelieve  it. 

But  to  prove  any  such  theistic  doctrine  it  is  manifestly 
necessary  antecedently  to  possess  a  sufficient  knowledge 
of  truths  apt  to  serve  as  premisses  for  so  important  a 
conclusion. 

Now  there  is  one  assertion  as  to  the  cause  of  our  convic- 
tions— especially  about  our  confidence  in  the  real  existence 
of  the  external  world  and  the  inevitableness  of  that  confid- 
ence— which  deserves  special  notice,  not  so  much  on  its 


CAUSES  OF  SCIENTIFIC  KNOWLEDGE  267 

own  account  as  because  it  harmonises  with  a  fashion  of  the 
day.  A  strong  tendency  exists  to  try  to  account  for  ev- 
erything by  the  action  of  "  natural  selection,"  and  that 
cause  has  been  specially  invoked  to  account  for  the  inevit- 
able character  of  our  convictions  about  the  reality  of  the 
external  world. 

It  is  indeed  a  persuasion  of  many  men  of  science  that  all 
the  characteristics,  all  the  sense-organs,  and  all  the  intel- 
ligence which  any  animal  possesses,  are  and  must  have  been 
due  to  "  natural  selection,"  that  is,  to  the  preservation  in 
the  struggle  for  life  of  the  creatures  possessing  such  sense- 
organs  and  intelligence.  Why  then,  it  is  asked,  may  not 
human  reason  be  in  the  same  case  ?  Why  may  it  not  be 
the  mere  result  of  a  fortunate  psychical  variation  which  has 
enabled  the  primitive  brutal  man  to  destroy  and  feed  on  the 
brutal  animal  a  trifle  more  easily  than  before  ?  Is  it  possible 
for  us  to  trust  and  confide  in  a  faculty  which  has  been  at- 
tained slowly  through  the  persistent  endeavours  of  our  semi- 
simian  forefathers  to  feed  and  breed?  A  faculty  so  developed 
may  be  admirable  as  a  weapon,  but  what  guarantee  have  we 
to  regard  it  as  suited  for  very  different  purposes,  namely,  to 
reveal  to  us  the  true  nature  of  the  world  in  which  we  find 
ourselves,  and  to  show  us  what  it  is  reasonable  for  us  to  do 
in  other  directions  ? 

This  objection  we  have  long  before  referred  to,1  stating 
that  it  would  be  more  fully  considered  later  on.  For  such 
fuller  consideration  the  time  has  now  come. 

But  we  may  here  remind  our  readers  of  what  we  before 
pointed  out.2  If  our  conviction  about  the  existence  of  an 
external  world  had  been  produced  by  "  natural  selection," 
that  would  constitute  a  triumphant  argument  against  ideal- 
ism. "For,  unless  an  independent,  extended,  and  external 
world  really  existed,  no  sentient  organisms  would  be  de- 

1  See  chapter  Hi.,  p.  46.  8  See  ante,  p.  47. 


268  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

stroyed  by  contravening  the  laws  and  conditions  thereof. 
If  it  had  acted  so  efficiently,  it  must  have  been  a  reality. 
But,  though  there  has  been,  and  still  is,  a  great  deal  of 
talking  and  writing  about  "  natural  selection,"  it  is  sur- 
prising how  many  persons  talk  and  write  about  it  without 
knowing  what  it  really  is.  It  may  be  useful,  therefore,  to 
say  here  a  few  words  upon  the  subject,  so  that  our  readers 
may  run  less  risk  of  being  misled  and  wasting  their  time 
over  questions  which  are  in  no  way  to  the  purpose. 

In  the  first  place,  we  must  remember  what  the  action  of 
"  natural  selection  "  is,  what  it  can  do,  and  what  it  is  im- 
possible that  it  should  ever  effect. 

"  Natural  selection,"  as  everyone  knows,  was  put  forward 
by  the  late  Mr.  Charles  Darwin  to  account  for  the  origin  of 
new  kinds  (new  species)  of  animals  and  plants.  Considering 
that  no  two  individuals  of  either  kingdom  are  absolutely 
alike,  and  that  every  species  tends  to  increase  rapidly,  it  is 
evident  that  any  variation  (whether  structural  or  functional) 
which  should  arise,  of  a  seriously  detrimental  character, 
would  render  almost  inevitable  the  destruction  of  the  in- 
dividual possessing  it. 

It  is  no  less  evident  that  any  animal  or  plant  which  should 
come  to  possess  a  new  character  exceptionally  favourable, 
would  have  a  better  chance  of  survival  amidst  the  various 
adverse  influences  which  threaten  the  lives  of  all  animals 
and  plants. 

Thus  individuals  which  survive  by  escaping  the  elimina- 
tion which  awaits  others,  are  said  to  be  naturally  "  selected. " 
It  is  not,  however,  any  active  "  selection  "  which  takes 
place ;  it  is  merely  an  escape  from  destruction  through  the 
possession  of  some  favourable  characteristic. 

'  Natural  selection,"  therefore,  is  in  reality  a  term  de- 
noting all  the  destructive  powers  of  nature  taken  together 
and  considered  as  an  active  unity. 


CAUSES  OF  SCIENTIFIC  KNOWLEDGE  269 

Whether  or  not  this  is  a  sufficient  account  of  the  origin 
of  species  is  a  question  upon  which  we  cannot  enter  at  any 
length  here,  and  it  is  the  less  necessary  to  do  so  as  we 
have  elsewhere  explained  our  views  and  the  arguments 
which,  in  our  opinion,  support  them. 

It  is,  of  course,  obvious  that  the  origin  of  a  new  species 
must  be  due  to  the  development  of  new  positive  characters 
which  distinguish  it  from  other  species;  the  action  of  nature 
can  be  but  that  of  a  pruning-knife  applied  to  the  sprouting 
tree  of  organic  life. 

This,  of  course,  'Darwin  well  knew,  and  he  never  for  a 
moment  pretended  (as  some  of  his  opponents  have  very  un- 
justly and  foolishly  represented  that  he  did  pretend)  that 
"  natural  selection  "  could  account  for,  or  produce,  the 
variations  upon  the  occurrence  of  which  the  origin  of  every 
new  species  must  absolutely  depend. 

But  Mr.  Darwin  was  most  exceptionally  fortunate  in  the 
character  of  his  hypothesis,  for  it  was  of  such  a  nature  as  to 
be  almost  incapable  of  disproof.  Having  taken  up  the 
position  that  every  characteristic  of  a  species  exists  through 
its  utility  to  that  species,  and  that  it  may  be  assumed  to 
have  so  originated  unless  proof  to  the  contrary  can  be  given, 
his  opponent  was  thereby  reduced  to  sore  straits  indeed,  and 
it  would  be  similar  even  if  we  knew,  from  some  infallible 
source,  that  the  hypothesis  was  a  false  one. 

For  its  opponent  would  have  to  show  that  minute,  hap- 
hazard variations  in  all  directions  in  all  the  organs  of  every 
species,  were  impossible  or  did  not  take  place;  he  would 
also  have  to  show  that  there  were  structures  or  functions 
possessed  by  some  species  which  were  not  only  of  no  use 
to  it  now,  but  could  never  have  been  of  any  use  to  any  of 
its  ancestors  at  any  period  of  the  world's  history,  or,  under 
any  possible  conditions,  of  any  use  to  even  any  hypo- 
thetical ancestor  which  an  advocate  of  "  natural  selection  " 


2/O  THE -GROUND  WORK  OF  SCIENCE 

can  suggest  may  have  existed  under  conditions  widely 
divergent  from  those  which  form  the  present  environment 
of  the  species  in  question.  A  disciple  of  Mr.  Darwin  can 
also  always  say:  "  It  is  very  true  that  this  or  that  charac- 
ter could  not  have  been  produced  by  '  natural  selection  ' 
directly,  but  it  may  have  been  produced  by  it  indirectly, 
for  you  cannot  deny  that  it  may  have  been  an  accompani- 
ment of  some  other  character  which  was  useful."  Thus 
such  a  disciple  may  claim  a  victory  on  the  mere  ground  of 
his  being  able  to  imagine  some  possible  cause  for  the  past 
or  present  existence  of  which  he  is  unable  to  bring  forward 
a  shadow  of  proof. 

The  Darwinian  is  free  to  invoke  climatic  changes,  geo- 
graphical modifications,  and  the  presence  or  the  absence 
of  rivals  or  of  enemies  at  his  will  and  discretion.  Easy,  in- 
deed, is  it  for  such  an  one,  with  some  flexibility  of  imagina- 
tion, to  construct  suggestions  of  utility  when  provided  with 
such  an  unlimited  field  of  free  speculation.  Let  an  animal 
be  black,  and  reasons  can  be  very  readily  found  to  show  that 
blackness  may  have  saved  it  from  destruction.  Let  it  be 
shown  to  be  white,  and  another  set  of  reasons  are  easily  im- 
agined to  show  that  the  snowier  its  tints,  the  more  assured 
are  its  chances  of  survival.  Thus,  upon  a  rabbit's  white  tail 
being  adduced  as  a  character  dangerously  conspicuous,  it 
has  been  replied,  "  Oh,  but  it  serves  as  a  signal  in  danger 
to  guide  the  young  on  their  way  to  the  burrow!  " 

Perhaps  the  most  notable  character  of  the  Darwinian 
theory  is  the  extraordinary  easiness  of  its  advocacy  and 
difficulty  of  its  refutation,  quite  apart  from  any  question  of 
its  truth.  The  chances  of  its  author  in  such  a  game  of 
biological  speculation  can  only  be  expressed  by  the  well- 
known  vulgarism,  "  Heads  I  win,  tails  you  lose." 

Nevertheless,  there  are  characters  which — as  it  has  always 
seemed  and  still  seems  to  us — defy  explanation  even  amidst 


CAUSES  OF  SCIENTIFIC  KNOWLEDGE  2? I 

such  extraordinary  facilities.  Some  such  could  easily  be 
now  brought  forward,  but  it  would  be  out  of  place  to  adduce 
them  here,  as,  though  "  natural  selection"  has  some  in- 
direct bearing  on  Epistemology,  the  question  as  to  the  origin 
of  animals  and  plants  has  none  save  in  one  respect  only. 

The  tendency  of  Darwinism  has  plainly  and  manifestly 
been  to  propagate  a  conviction  that  the  origin  of  species 
has  been  due -to  what  we  must  call  chance — that  is,  not  to 
any  rational  cause.  The  essence  of  the  hypothesis  is  the 
origin  of  species  by  the  fortuitous  action  of  the  destructive 
forces  of  nature  on  individuals  which  differ  by  innate,  in- 
definite, haphazard  variations  in  all  directions.  Purposeless 
energy  is  conceived  as  the  cause  of  the  variations,  and  the 
selection  of  certain  kinds  is  also  conceived  of  as  due  to  the 
chance  action  of  physical  forces  and  of  other  organisms. 
By  this  expression  we  mean,  of  course,  that  the  cause  of 
variation  is  thus  deemed  to  be  not  only  unknown,  but  to 
be  due  to  no  definite  law  which  is  the  outcome  of  any  kind 
or  sort  of  intelligent  energy.  By  this  system,  then,  un- 
reason may  be  regarded  as  practically  lord  of  the  universe, 
and  the  source  of  all  the  beauties  and  harmonies  which  exist 
in  organic  nature. 

The  above  philosophical  conception,  which  underlies  the 
Darwinian  theory,  has  a  very  distinct  though  indirect  bear- 
ing on  Epistemology,  as  we  shall  see  later  on. 

We  must  now  return  to  the  consideration  of  the  asserted 
genesis  by  "  natural  selection  "  of  the  inevitable  character 
of  our  perceptions  of  an  external,  extended  world.  The 
main  answer  to  this  objection  is  the  answer  which  we  shall 
shortly  give  to  all  the  theories  concerning  the  origin  of 
human  knowledge.  It  consists  in  pointing  out  that  what  is 
supremely  important  is  not  the  origin  of  knowledge  but  the 
grounds  of  knowledge — the  reasons  why  it  should  and  must 
be  confided  in  and  trusted.  It  is  strange  that  'so  many 


2/2  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

persons  should  be  blind  to  this  fact,  which,  in  our  eyes,  is 
so  obvious  a  truth. 

But,  putting  aside  for  the  present  this  reply,  let  us 
consider  whether  we  possess  any  knowledge  which  could 
not  have  been  due  to  the  action  of  "  natural  selection  " 
upon  minute  variations  in  the  clearness  and  extent  of  our 
perceptions. 

Now,  as  we  have  more  than  once  before  pointed  out,  our 
intuition  of  the  extended  is  not  the  most  absolutely  certain 
of  our  intuitions  or  one  of  the  highest  rank,  and  it  certainly 
is  not  our  only  intuition. 

If  it  did  stand  alone,  if  that  were  our  only  intuition,  then 
there  might  be  some  plausibility  in  attributing  its  origin  to 
such  a  cause.  But  we  possess  other  intuitions  which 
"  natural  selection  "  could  never  have  developed.  If, 
therefore,  we  are  forced  to  assign  the  existence  and  develop- 
ment of  those  other  intuitions  to  some  cause  quite  different 
from  "  natural  selection,"  then  the  cause  which  developed 
them  may  obviously  also  have  developed  our  invincible  con- 
viction that  an  external,  independent  universe  of  extended 
objects  (things  in  themselves)  exists. 

Now  amongst  the  intuitions  possessed  by  us  for  which 
"  natural  selection  "  cannot  account,  are  those  gained  by 
our  reflex  consciousness  respecting  the  necessary  truth  of 
first  principles,  such  as  that  of  the  principle  of  contradiction, 
the  force  of  the  word  "  therefore,"  the  certainty  that  for 
every  new  existence  there  must  be  a  cause,  etc. 

But  more  striking  still,  in  this  relation,  are  our  certainties 
about  purely  hypothetical  verities,  e.  g.,  "  If  premisses  are 
false  or  uncertain  no  certain  conclusion  can  be  derived 
therefrom  "  ;  "  If  an  engine  can  travel  only  thirty  miles  an 
hour,  it  could  never  traverse  one  hundred  miles  in  an  hour 
and  a  half  "  ;  "  If  A,  having  been  entrusted  with  money  to 
pay  a  debt  of  B,  should  spend  it  in  gratifying  some  desire 


CAUSES  OF  SCIENTIFIC  KNOWLEDGE  2/3 

of  his  own,  he  would  commit  an  unjust  act,"  etc.  (<  Natural 
selection  "  has  efficiency  to  compel  action  in  harmony  with 
the  requirements  of  physical  conditions,  but  none  to  teach 
us  speculative,  and  especially  hypothetical,  propositions. 

If,  then,  there  is  some  efficient  cause  which  can,  inde- 
pendently of  "  natural  selection,"  produce  these  intuitive 
results,  a  fortiori  it  could  produce  the  indefinitely  minor 
effect,  namely,  "  sense-perception,"  the  apprehension  of 
spatial  relations,  and  a  conviction  that  the  objects  we 
see  and  feel  really  exist  independently  of  any  imaginable 
feelings. 

We  have  said  above  that  had  we  no  other  intuition  save 
that  of  things  extended,  that  intuition  might  plausibly  be 
attributed  to  the  action  of  "  natural  selection."  But  it 
certainly  would  be  only  a  plausible  attribution,  and  not  a 
truly  reasonable  one.  For,  as  we  have  seen,  "  natural 
selection"  can  give  rise  to  nothing;  all  it  can  do  is  to 
favour  the  existence  and  development  of  that  which  has 
already  risen. 

But  between  a  mere  sense-perception  such  as  we  suppose 
animals  to  possess  exclusively,  and  an  intellectual  intuition, 
there  is  a  profound  difference  of  kind,  and  such  a  difference 
can  never  arise  by  spontaneous  development.  For  the 
origin  of  a  new  kind  of  perception — a  new  power  and  faculty 
— some  adequate  cause  must  intervene,  as  we  have  lately 
urged  when  considering  the  law  of  causation.1 

Between  a  power  which  can  reflect  upon  its  experiences 
and  recognise  relations  as  relations,  gifted  with  self-con- 
sciousness and  the  power  of  ratiocination,  and  another 
power  which  possesses  none  of  these  things,  it  would  surely 
be  difficult  to  exagerate  the  difference. 

And  yet  this  difference  is  by  no  means  all  the  divergence 
which  exists  between  the  mind  of  man  and  the  highest 

1  See  ante,  p.  256. 
18 


274  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

psychical  power  commonly  attributed  exclusively  to  animals. 
There  is,  further,  the  power  of  apprehending  a  distinction 
between  right  and  wrong,  and  conceiving  of  moral  respon- 
sibility, and  also  the  power  of  forming  abstract  ideas  and 
apprehending  absolute,  necessary,  and  universal  truths  as 
such.  Surely  the  difference  between  a  nature  possessing 
all  these  powers  and  one  which  has  them  not,  must,  indeed, 
be  a  difference  of  kind. 

The  difference  of  kind  which  we  have  before l  represented 
as  existing  (and  which  we  consider  does  exist)  between  man 
and  mere  animals,  must,  we  hope,  be  now  evident  to  the 
reader's  mind. 

Nevertheless,  as  we  declared  when  directly  considering 
the  psychical  powers  of  brutes,  we  have  no  desire  to  dog- 
matise with  respect  to  this  matter.  That  there  is,  and  must 
be,  a  very  real  and  great  difference  of  kind  between  a 
nature  essentially,  though  latently,  intellectual,  and  possess- 
ing a  capacity  for  the  apprehension  of  these  highest  truths, 
and  a  merely  sensitive  power,  is,  for  us,  unquestionable. 
But  whether  that  higher  psychical  nature  exists  latent  and 
incapable  of  manifestation  in  animals,  as  it  does  in  the  human 
infant,  is  a  question  not  absolutely  evident,  though,  as  we 
believe,  the  amount  of  evidence  which  does  exist  tells 
strongly  against  the  view  that  animals  have  a  nature  which 
is  in  its  essence  potentially  rational. 

Yet  there  is  no  absolute  impossibility  that  they  may,  and, 
if  they  do,  then  variations  in  the  amount  and  kinds  of  its 
incipient  and  ultimate  manifestations  might  have  been  de- 
veloped by  "  natural  selection."  But  to  this  question  we 
shall  return  in  our  next  and  final  chapter,  when  we  consider 
possibilities  as  to  the  nature  of  the  cosmos.  Were  human 
intelligence  really  evolved  from  a  hidden  intelligence  in 
animals,  that  fact  would  in  no  way  invalidate  or  weaken  the 

1  See  ante,  p.  214. 


CAUSES  OF  SCIENTIFIC  KNOWLEDGE  275 

difference  between  a  higher  nature,  such  as  man's,  and  a 
much  lower  one,  such  as  that  commonly  attributed  to 
animals.  Its  only  effect  would  be,  as  before  said,  to  raise 
mere  animal  life  in  our  esteem,  and  in  no  way  to  depress  or 
diminish  our  respect  for  our  own  mental  powers.  It  would 
be  a  process  of  psychical  "  levelling  up." 

It  is  the  opposite  process,  that  of  ' '  levelling  down, ' '  which 
is  so  profoundly  unreasonable,  and  which  we  shall  almost 
immediately  1  proceed  to  consider. 

Thus  one  and  the  same  answer  can  be  given  to  all  the  dif- 
ferent representations  which  have  been  made  concerning  the 
value  to  be  attributed  to  human  perceptions  and  the  de- 
velopment of  intelligence  from  the  germ,  as  to  which  differ- 
ent persons  have  advanced  special  claims  for  exceptional 
security  of  one  and  another  mode,  as  lately  stated.  All 
such  inquiries  are  interesting  and  valuable  for  some  purposes 
(such  as  the  study  of  the  human  mind),  but  they  are  all 
utterly  beside  the  question  which  supremely  concerns  us. 

We  have  seen  *  that  the  ultimate  ground  of  certainty, 
whatever  proposition  we  may  be  considering,  is,  and  must 
be,  its  own  intrinsic  self-evidence — its  manifest  certainty  in 
and  by  itself. 

All  inquiries  into  the  origin  and  causes  of  our  convictions 
— whether  they  are  gained  by  experience,  or  innate,  or 
dawning  in  the  mind  of  the  infant,  or  only  acquired  at  men- 
tal maturity,  or  brought  forth  from  intelligence  latent  at 
birth,  or  brought  forth  by  "  natural  selection  "  from  in- 
telligence truly  latent  in  our  animal  ancestors — are  futile  for 
Epistemology. 

That  a  fruit  we  at  the  same  time  see,  feel,  smell,  and  taste 
exists ;  that  it  cannot,  at  the  same  time,  have  a  seed  within 
it  and  be  seedless ;  that  we  are  the  same  person  we  were  be- 
fore we  saw  this  fruit ;  that  if  we  give  half  of  it  away,  what 

1  See  infra,  p.  277.  8  See  ante,  pp.  221-222. 


276  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

of  it  remains  to  us  will  be  thereby  diminished ;  that  if  all 
peaches  are  juicy,  and  we  know  a  peach  has  been  given  to 
a  child,  we  may  be  sure  it  has  been  given  something  juicy; 
that  if  a  fruit  was  in  a  cupboard,  but  is  now  there  no  longer, 
its  absence  is  to  be  attributed  to  some  cause,  and  that  a 
really  ungrateful  action  must  be  bad — are  plain  truths,  no 
whit  less  certain  whatever  may  have  been  the  mode  in  which 
we  have  come  to  know  them.  In  other  words,  the  certainty 
of  our  knowledge  of  the  objective  reality  of  bodies,  and  of 
the  objective  validity  of  the  first  principles  of  human  intel- 
ligence, is  in  no  way  affected  by  the  nature  of  the  agency, 
or  the  modes  of  action,  which  have  furnished  us  with  the 
certainty  we  possess.  That  is  of  the  highest  possible  kind, 
so  that  no  one  can  even  conceive  of  any  mode  by  which 
greater  certainty  could  be  given  to  us  than  is  given  to  us  by 
self-evidence.  It  matters  not  to  us  what  was  the  intellectual 
condition  of  our  immediate  or  our  remote  ancestors,  nor 
what  was  our  state  in  infancy,  nor  how  it  was  we  acquired 
the  intellectual  intuitions  we  have.  Their  validity  is  not 
affected  thereby,  for  their  self-evidence  to  us,  hie  et  nunc,  is 
clear  and  luminous.  Of  nothing  else  have  we,  or  can  we 
have,  such  complete  and  absolute  certainty. 

So  far,  then,  the  suggestion  of  the  development — the  im- 
proving and  perfecting — of  intellect  through  the  action  of 
"  natural  selection  "  upon  creatures  already  latently  intel- 
ligent, and  varying  in  their  approximations  towards  its 
incipient  manifestations,  is  one  which  has  no  bearing  upon 
Epistemology,  and  may  therefore  be  put  aside  by  us,  as 
nothing  but  a  waste  of  time  could  ensue  from  its  further 
study. 

Very  different,  however,  are  the  consequences  which 
ensue  from  that  approximation  between  the  highest  psychi- 
cal powers  of  men  and  brutes,  which  we  have  spoken  of  !  as 

1  See  ante,  p.  275. 


CAUSES  OF  SCIENTIFIC  KNOWLEDGE  277 

a  "  levelling  down/'  and  from  the  philosophical  system 
which  underlies '  the  system  put  forth  by  Mr.  Darwin,  and 
that  which  Mr.  Herbert  Spencer  has  recently  brought  to 
its  termination.  The  consequences  which  thence  ensue  do 
indeed  bear  upon  the  science  of  Epistemology,  and,  indeed, 
not  only  upon  the  groundwork  of  science,  but  upon  every 
separate  science,  and  therefore,  necessarily,  on  the  basis  of 
them  all.  They  are  thus  fatal  because  they  spring  from, 
and  can  only  exist  with,  a  complete  want  of  apprehension 
of  what  the  human  intellect  is  and  what  are  its  powers. 

In  the  first  place,  we  now  desire  to  call  attention  to  the 
law  and  principle  which  Mr.  Spencer  has  enunciated  as 
specially  his  own,  and  as  one  extending  from  the  founda- 
tion of  his  whole  philosophical  construction  to  its  highest 
pinnacle. 

This  great  law  and  principle  propounded  by  him — his 
version  of  the  process  of  evolution — is  the  assertion  that  all 
things  in  nature  are  proceeding  "from  an  indefinite,  incoher- 
ent homogeneity  to  a  definite,  coherent  heterogeneity. ' ' 

It  will  be  well  for  all  readers  who  may  be  inclined  to  defer 
to  and  reverence  Mr.  Herbert  Spencer's  doctrines,  to  ponder 
a  little  over  this,  his  first  principle,  which  he  long  ago  chose 
as  a  starting-point,  and  which  his  very  latest  writings  pro- 
fess to  enforce  and  illustrate. 

The  process  and  procession  of  evolutionary  changes  are 
thus  declared  by  him  to  start  from  what  is  homogeneous, 
incoherent,  and  indefinite  !  Could  any  procession  be  more 
unfortunate  as  to  its  starting-point,  any  process  more  neces- 
sarily impotent,  any  philosophical  structure  more  baseless  ? 

Hegel  has  received  far  more  than  his  share  of  ridicule  for 
saying  that  "  being  and  not-being  are  identical."  But 
Hegel  was  dealing  with  abstract  ideas,  regarded  in  a  certain 
way,  while  Mr.  Spencer  is  busy  about  concrete  things.  As 

1  P.  271. 


278  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

to  them  he,  in  effect,  makes  an  assertion  which  is  utterly 
self-contradictory.  The  starting-point  of  his  procession  lies 
nowhere,  the  fulcrum  for  his  process  is  nonentity,  and  the 
foundation  of  his  system  is  an  absolute  vacuum. 

For,  according  to  him,  everything  depends  for  its  origin 
on  the  "  indefinite,"  and,  most  unfortunately  for  Mr. 
Spencer,  the  "  indefinite  "  is  just  what  does  not,  never  did, 
and  never  can  exist. 

It  is  absolutely  impossible  for  any  concrete  entity  to  be 
"  indefinite."  Whatever  is,  is  necessarily  a  thing  of  some 
kind  or  another.  It  must  have  certain  qualities  and  charac- 
ters, be  they  what  they  may.  Let  us  conceive  of  the  most 
attenuated  and  amorphous  nebula  we  can ;  it  must  yet  be 
quite  definite.  It  must  have  some  composition,  some  char- 
acters of  cohesion  and  possible  resistance,  some  limits  as  to 
size,  and  some  shape,  change  as  it  may  from  instant  to  in- 
stant. In  reality  it  is  as  definite  a  thing  as  a  plum-pudding, 
and  it  is  nothing  but  a  trick  of  the  imagination  which  may 
make  it  seem  not  to  be  so.  Less  easily  perceived  by  our 
sense-organs,  and  therefore  less  easy  to  imagine  and  less 
easy  to  describe,  it  certainly  is.  But  less  "  definite  "  it  no 
less  certainly  is  not. 

Here  then,  at  the  very  base,  or  the  very  starting-point,  of 
Mr.  Spencer's  whole  philosophy,  lies  an  absurdity  so  pro- 
found as  necessarily  to  destroy  the  philosophical  value  of 
the  entire  system  based  upon  it.  And  his  system  agrees 
with  that  "  levelling-down  "  method  of  treating  human  in- 
telligence which  now  demands  our  attention.  We  need, 
however,  occupy  but  little  space  here  or  little  of  our  reader's 
attention,  if  he  is  already  convinced  that  self-evidence,  as 
recognised  by  the  intellect,  is  the  supreme  and  ultimate 
criterion  of  the  truth  of  those  propositions  which  lie  at  the 
base  of  all  our  "  ordered  knowledge  " — i.  e.,  of  all  science. 

The  process  of  "  levelling  down  "  seeks  to  explain  our 


CA  USES   OF  SCIENTIFIC  KNO  WLEDGE  2?$ 

highest  faculties  by  our  lowest,  and  to  make  not  intellect 
but  sense  the  criterion  of  our  judgments.  After  what  we 
have  before  pointed  out,  we  think  it  needless  further  to 
criticise  that  fundamental  error  which  forms  a  main  part  of 
the  system  of  philosophy  which  underlies  the  system  known 
as  Darwinism.  Its  result,  for  those  who  are  so  unfortunate 
as  not  to  have  forced  their  way  through  it,  is  to  hide  from 
their  intellectual  eyesight  the  objective  truth  of  these  prin- 
ciples which  are  logically  necessary  for  all  science,1  and 
which  if  not  (as  they  should  be)  expressly  accepted,  must  at 
least  be  unconsciously  assumed  when  pursuing  science. 

The  ultimate  result  of  that  system  is  necessarily  self- 
destructive,  ending  (when  consistently  carried  out  to  its 
consequences)  in  a  scepticism  which  amounts  to  intellectual 
paralysis. 

The  system  to  which  we  here  specially  refer  is  that  which 
affirms  the  essential  relativity  of  knowledge. 

Now  that  all  human  knowledge  is  relative  is,  in  one  sense, 
of  course,  a  most  obvious  truth.  Our  knowledge  plainly 
depends  upon  and  is  relative  to  our  powers  of  discernment 
and  reasoning — our  senses  and  our  intellect.  Had  we  more 
senses  we  should  doubtless  know  many  things  which  we  now 
cannot  even  conceive  of  because  the  imaginations  necessary 
for  such  conceptions  are  lacking.  Had  we  deeper  powers 
of  intuition  and  a  greater  capacity  for  ratiocination  our 
knowledge  would  be  indefinitely  increased  thereby.  In 
such  senses  as  these  our  knowledge  is  truly  relative.  But 
though  we  can  thus  know  only  in  part,  we  -can  know  many 
truths  with  absolute  certainty  and  complete  adequacy,  and 
we  can  and  do  see  the  self-evident  certainty  and  complete- 
ness of  such  knowledge. 

Even  Omniscience  could  not  know  with  an  essentially 
greater  certainty  than  we  do  the  fact  of  our  own  existence, 

1  See  ante,  chapter  iv. 


280  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

the  fact  that  one  moon,  and  not  two,  circles  round  our  planet, 
the  truth  of  the  principles  of  contradiction  and  causality, 
etc.  About  such  knowledge  there  can  be  no  uncertainty  on 
the  ground  of  its  relativity  or  on  any  other  ground.  It  is 
absolute  knowledge.  But  this  is  what  the  upholders  of 
the  doctrine  of  its  relativity  deny.  They  deny  that,  being 
relative,  it  can  ever  at  the  same  time  be  absolutely  and  per- 
fectly true. 

This  system  became,  a  short  time  ago,  widely  popular, 
and  its  doctrines  may  be  conveniently  summed  up  as 
follows : 

(1)  All  our  knowledge  is  merely  relative. 

(2)  We  can  know  nothing  but  phenomena. 

(3)  We  cannot  be  supremely  certain  as  to  our  substantial 
existence. 

(4)  We  cannot  emerge  from  subjectivity  and  attain  any 
knowledge  of  objective  truths. 

The  second,  third,  and  fourth  of  these  doctrines  we  have 
already,  we  hope,  sufficiently  passed  in  review.  As  to  the 
mere  assertion  of  relativity  as  implying  untruth  or  untrust- 
worthiness,  a  very  brief  consideration  will,  we  think,  suffice. 

Every  system  of  knowledge  must  start  with  the  assump- 
tion, implied  or  expressed,  that  something  is  true  and  can 
be  certainly  known  so  to  be.  Therefore,  those  who  uphold 
the  doctrine  of  the  relativity  of  knowledge  must  evidently 
hold,  since  they  honestly  teach  it,  that  their  doctrine  of  the 
relativity  of  knowledge  is  true  and  can  be  known  with 
certainty  to  be  true. 

Yet  if  we  cannot  know  that  any  of  our  internal  convictions 
correspond  with  objective  reality,  if  nothing  we  can  assert 
can  be  and  be  known  by  us  to  be  absolutely  true  and  cer- 
tain, then  this  character  must  also  appertain  to  the  doctrine 
of  the  "  relativity  of  knowledge."  Either,  then,  this  system 
of  philosophy  is  merely  uncertain,  and  cannot  be  known  to 


CAUSES   OF  SCIENTIFIC  KNOWLEDGE  28 1 

be  true,  or  else  it  is  absolutely  true  and  can  be  known  so  to 
be. 

But  it  must  be  merely  uncertain,  and  possibly  untrue,  if 
everything  which  any  human  being  can  ever  know  is  such. 
Its  value  then  can  be  only  "  relative,"  cannot  be  known  to 
correspond  with  external  reality,  and  cannot,  therefore,  be 
declared  to  be  true.  Now  anybody  who  asserts  that  he  can 
know  it  to  be  true,  thereby  asserts  that  it  is  false  to  say 
that  all  our  knowledge  is  relative  and  cannot  be  known  to 
be  true.  But  in  that  case  some  of  our  knowledge  must  be 
absolute.  Therefore,  he  who  asserts  that  all  our  knowledge 
is  necessarily  relative  and  uncertain,  affirms  at  the  same 
time  that  some  of  it  is  necessarily  absolute  and  certain,  and 
thus  plainly  and  explicitly  contradicts  himself.  With  a 
perception  of  which  fact  the  reader  need  not,  we  think, 
trouble  himself  any  further  concerning  the  doctrine  of  the 
necessary  relativity  of  knowledge. 

But  is  the  special  Darwinian  view,  which  regards  the 
forms  of  the  organic  world  as  being  the  result  of  minute  in- 
definite variations  acted  on  by  the  chance  conflict  of  for- 
tuitous influences  of  all  kinds,  one  which  really  harmonises 
with  the  teaching  of  nature  ? 

The  universe  open  to  our  ken  gives  us  no  positive  evidence 
of  life  elsewhere  than  in  our  planet.  No  doubt,  analogy 
suggests  that  many  other  worlds  are  inhabited,  and  for  our 
own  part  we  cannot  doubt  that  such  must  be  the  case. 
Still,  from  what  astronomers  teach  us,  it  would  seem  that 
great  spaces  in  the  heavens  are  destitute  of  animal  or  vege- 
table life,  and  that  the  worlds  which  are  destitute  of  it  pro- 
bably predominate  in  number.  Even  in  our  solar  system 
the  majority  of  its  planets  seem  unfitted  to  be  the  abode 
of  living  creatures. 

When,  from  considerations  of  extent  as  regards  space,  we 
turn  to  consider  duration  and  ponder  over  the  past  history 


282  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

of  our  own  globe,  it  seems  difficult  to  think  that  the  vast 
series  of  succeeding  ages  which  have  seen  so  many  races  of 
living  beings  successively  arise  and  perish,  were  not  preceded 
by  even  a  vaster  series  during  which  the  earth  revolved  a 
mere  mass  of  inorganic  matter. 

And  even  in  our  own  day  such  inorganic  matter  forms  an 
enormously  preponderating  part  of  its  total  composition. 
How  small  a  film  upon  its  surface  would  be  formed  were 
the  whole  mass  of  creatures  now  living  spread  over  it. 

Surely,  then,  when  we  begin  to  consider  the  universe 
known  to  us,  as  its  laws,  as  one  whole,  it  becomes  clear  that 
the  vastly  preponderating  inorganic  part  of  it  is  what  we 
should  take  as  our  norm,  or  standard  of  comparison,  when 
endeavouring  to  understand,  as  far  as  we  may,  the  nature 
of  its  constitution  and  laws.  It  is  to  the  inorganic  world 
we  must  address  ourselves  if  we  would  attain  to  the  most 
comprehensive  view  possible  for  us,  of  the  order  and  method 
which  dominates  and  pervades  nature.  Such  is  especially 
the  case  since,  however  we  may  be  impressed  by  the  pro- 
bability that  life  such  as  exists  in  this  world  exists  also  in 
others,  we  cannot  actually  know  that  such  is  the  case.  But 
we  do  actually  know,  by  the  aid  of  spectrum  analysis,  that 
the  laws,  properties,  and  species  of  inorganic  substances, 
such  as  those  of  our  own  earth,  do  extend  into  the  remotest 
regions  of  the  cosmos  which  our  telescopes  enable  us  to 
explore. 

What,  then,  is  the  order  of  nature  revealed  to  us  by  the 
inorganic  world? 

Throughout  that  world  and  amongst  the  multitude  of 
mineral,  and  especially  of  crystalline,  species  which  compose 
it,  most  definite  and  ceaseless  order  reigns. 

Each  species  has  its  own  absolute  internal  constitution 
and  laws  by  which  it  continues  to  be,  from  age  to  age,  just 
what  it  is  and  no  other,  whether  or  not  such  stable  sub- 


CAUSES  OF  SCIENTIFIC  KNOWLEDGE  283 

stances  originally  arose  from  diverse  combinations  of  one 
primitive  matter. 

And  the  changes  which  take  place  in  that  inorganic  world 
are  all  most  definite  and  ruled  by  rigid  laws.  All  the 
various  chemical  combinations  which  can  and  do  take  place 
are  definite  combinations.  And  only  certain  such  combina- 
tions are  possible.  Mix  substances,  compound  or  element- 
ary, as  we  may,  we  can  only  induce  certain  syntheses 
resulting  in  new  substances,  and  by  no  means  a  fresh  sub- 
stance for  every  possible  blend. 

These  various  syntheses,  moreover,  can  only  take  place 
under  certain  definite  conditions,  and  most  frequently  the 
states  and  properties  of  the  separate  substances,  the  syn- 
thesis of  which  produces  a  new  one,  by  no  means  give  a 
clue  to  the  states  and  properties  possessed  by  such  new  sub- 
stance. Of  this  fact,  the  simplest  and  most  familiar  of  all 
chemical  syntheses — the  synthesis  of  oxygen  and  hydrogen 
in  the  production  of  water — affords  an  instance  as  striking 
as  it  is  familiar.  Between  the  physical  condition  of  the 
substances  before  synthesis  and  that  of  the  new  substance 
after  synthesis,  there  is  a  manifest  breach  of  continuity. 
Somehow  or  other  we  meet  here,  as  in  the  instances  pre- 
viously given,1  with  a  "  new  departure."  Surely  we  could 
hardly  have  more  plain  and  unmistakable  evidence  of  per- 
manent law  and  order  than  that  with  which  the  inorganic 
world  supplies  us. 

But  law  and  order  are  not  the  only  characteristics  of 
the  cosmos  thus  made  evident :  symmetry  and  beauty  are 
not  less  conspicuous.  In  crystals,  as  they  form  from  so- 
lution, the  most  definite,  and  often  the  most  charmingly 
symmetrical,  forms  are  produced.  Nor  are  the  junctions  of 
crystals  with  crystals  in  compound  aggregations  less  orderly 
and  beautiful,  as  we  see  in  the  fern-like  growths  upon  our 

1  See  ante,  pp.  213-214. 


284  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

window-panes  during  frost,  and  in  the  marvellous  symmetry 
of  snowflakes. 

What,  again,  is  more  wonderful  than  the  beauty  of  mar- 
ble and  serpentine,  of  malachite  and  lapis  lazuli,  of  the  sap- 
phire, the  emerald,  and  the  opal,  and  the  other  gems  of  dif- 
ferent hues  as  well  as  the  silky,  fibrous  textures  and  flakes 
as  of  pearl  which  the  mineral  world  has  produced  ?  The 
lovely  and  varied  tints  of  humming-birds,  of  butterflies,  and 
of  some  Coleoptera  are  thus  rivalled,  while  neither  beauty 
of  tint  nor  matchless  symmetry  of  form  can,  even  in  them, 
have  been  the  product  of  that  process  suggested  by  Mr. 
Darwin  as  auxiliary  to  "  natural  selection,"  namely, 
"  sexual  selection."  ' 

Yet  all  these  species  have  their  special  properties  and 
active  powers — their  definite  physiology — as  have,  pre- 
eminently, all  crystalline  substances  their  complete  and 
specific  anatomy. 

Passing  now  from  the  consideration  of  the  inorganic  world 

1  According  to  that  notion,  all  the  special  characteristics  of  the  male  sex  in 
each  species — all  that  seems  to  us  beautiful,  bizarre,  or  revolting  (strength  and 
nimbleness  apart) — have  been  evolved  by  means  of  the  constantly  recurring  ex- 
ercise of  choice  by  the  female  amongst  contending  suitors.  We  thus  find  it  as 
impossible  as  ever  to  believe  that  the  brilliant  tints  displayed  by  certain  apes 
were  thus  produced,  when  we  recall  to  mind  what  are  the  psychical  natures  of 
the  females,  and  the  physical  force  of  their  would-be  spouses. 

The  tastes  of  female  animals  also  must  not  only  have  been  strangely  diverse 
but  wonderfully  persistent.  One  of  the  oddest  notions  thus  promulgated  was 
the  assignment  to  such  feminine  influence  of  the  gradual  denuding  of  men's  backs 
of  the  hairy  coat  with  which  they  were  supposed  to  be  at  first  copiously  clothed. 
It  is  evident  that  the  primitive  ladies  of  the  Kalmuck  and  Persian  nationalities 
differed  widely  in  their  sentiments  as  regards  the  beard  ;  but,  nevertheless  (if 
the  theory  is  true),  the  females  of  every  tribe  and  nation  of  mankind — in  spite 
of  the  frequent  mutations  of  fashion — must  have  unanimously  and  persistently 
agreed  in  abhorring  hirsute  shoulders,  and  this  though  the  females  amongst 
their  immediate  pithecoid,  supposed  ancestors  entertained  a  directly  opposite 
sentiment.  We  refer  our  readers,  as  to  sexual  selection,  to  a  work  on  Animal 
Colouration,  by  Mr.  Frank  E.  Bedhard,  F.R.S.  London,  1892. 


CAUSES   OF  SCIENTIFIC  KNOWLEDGE  285 

to  that  of  the  world  of  life,  and  granting  the  truth  of  the 
hypothesis  of  evolution,  it  seems  to  us  clear  that  we  ought 
to  start  on  our  inquiry  imbued  with  the  lesson  impressed  on 
us  by  the  characteristics  of  the  practically  infinite  and  eternal 
laws  of  the  inorganic  universe,  which  lies  apart  from  the 
brief  and  passing  episode  of  existence  endowed  with  life. 

The  anticipations  of  the  kind  with  which  we  shall  thus  set 
out  on  our  exploration  will  by  no  means  be  disappointed 
when  we  come  to  consider  the  beautiful  sculpturing  of 
the  hard  parts  of  many  very  lowly  organisms,  such  as 
Diatoms,  and  the  complex  symmetry  displayed  by  Fora- 
minifera,  and,  above  all,  by  the  siliceous  skeletons  of  num- 
erous Radiolarians.  How  remarkable  is  the  sculpture  on 
certain  pollen  grains,  on  many  an  egg-shell,  as  also  the 
patterns  on  various  shells,  and  on  multitudes  of  feathers  and 
of  flowers.  As  little  is  it  conceivable  that  they  should  have 
been  brought  about  by  "  natural  selection,"  as  that  it 
should  have  caused  the  pearly  lining  of  shells  or  their  sub- 
superficial  beauty,  or  that  of  gems  and  other  minerals  buried 
for  ages  in  the  bowels  of  the  earth. 

One  of  the  most  obvious  characters  presented  by  the  bodies 
of  animals,  including  our  own,  is  that  each  has  a  right  and  left 
side,  and  that  these  two  sides,  and  their  parts,  correspond  as 
our  right  hand  proverbially  resembles  our  left  one.  When 
deeply  considered,  this  fact  is  by  itself  sufficient  to  prove 
that  the  body  of  an  animal  has  its  own  innate  laws,  which 
regulate  its  development ;  for  this  kind  of  correspondence — 
technically  called  "  bilateral  symmetry  " — shows  itself  not 
only  in  these  familiar  conditions,  but  in  the  effects  of  disease 
and  in  very  peculiar  structures  found  in  some  exceptional 
species  of  animals.  Indeed,  on  the  hypothesis  that  a  blood- 
relationship  of  descent  binds  together  different  kinds  of 
animals,  nature  actually  forces  upon  us  the  perception  that 
new  and  more  intensely  marked  forms  of  bilateral  symmetry 


286  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

have  arisen  in  a  space  of  time  which,  geologically  considered, 
must  be  called  brief.  Thus,  naturalists  now  are  generally 
agreed  that  birds  have  descended  from  reptiles;  but  the 
very  diversity  of  the  bilateral  symmetry  which  exists  be- 
tween the  two  wings  of  birds  on  the  one  part,  and  between 
their  two  legs  on  the  other  part,  is  far  more  striking  than 
any  which  is  found  in  their  hypothetical  progenitors. 

Another  form  of  bodily  symmetry  in  animals  is  known  as 
"  serial  symmetry."  Such  symmetry  is  most  plainly  seen 
and  obvious  in  the  successively  similar  segments  and  pairs 
of  limbs  in  the  centipede  and  its  allies;  but  it  is  also  to  be 
traced  in  the  bony  structure  of  the  human  chest,  with  its 
successive  ribs,  in  the  series  of  bones  (called  vertebrae)  which 
compose  our  spinal  column  or  backbone,  and  in  the  resem- 
blances which  can  be  traced  between  the  arm  and  the  leg  and 
between  the  hand  and  the  foot. 

A  vast  number  of  instances  of  variations  which  have  ap- 
peared suddenly  have  recently  been  brought  forward  in  a 
very  interesting  and  important  work.1  It  has  been  sought 
to  lessen  the  value  of  these  instances  on  the  ground  that  the 
great  majority  of  them  may  be  called  "  monstrosities." 
But  this  effort  shows  much  shallowness  of  mind  on  the  part 
of  those  who  made  it.  For  what,  after  all,  is  the  real  nature 
of  these  variations  •?  However  they  may  merit  to  be  called 

monstrosities,"  as  structures  out  of  harmony  with  the 
whole  whereof  they  form  a  part,  they  are,  almost  all  of 
them,  orderly  and  perfect  in  themselves.  They  eloquently 
proclaim  that  organic  nature  is  not  a  passive  mass  of  matter, 
devoid  of  innate  laws  of  self-regulation,  but  that  every  frag- 
ment of  it,  even  each  of  its  very  aberrations,  is  replete  with 
order  of  its  own  kind  and  in  its  due  degree. 

It  is  impossible  to   have  somewhat  widely  studied  the 

1  Materials  for  the  Study  of  Variation,  by  William  Bateson,  M.A.  Lon- 
don, 1892. 


CAUSES  OF  SCIENTIFIC  KNOWLEDGE  287 

science  of  zoology  or  that  of  botany  without  being  impressed 
with  the  plain  fact  that  considerable  or  small  gaps  between 
the  various  kinds  of  living  creatures  are  manifest  on  all  sides. 
The  existing  creation  is  plainly  discontinuous,  not  only  in 
the  inorganic  world,  but  also  in  that  which  is  organic,  how- 
ever much  its  gaps  may  be  filled  up  by  the  discovery  of  the 
remains  of  organisms  which  exist  no  longer. 

That  they  could  ever  be  entirely  filled  up  had  we  full 
cognisance  of  every  form  of  life  which  has  passed  away,  can- 
not certainly  be  affirmed  with  reasonable  confidence  when 
we  reflect  on  the  great  facts  of  discontinuity  to  which  we 
before  called  attention.1 

There  is,  in  the  first  place,  the  chasm  which  exists  between 
everything  which  lives  and  all  that  is  devoid  of  life.  Grant- 
ing that  the  universe  may  have  had  such  a  constitution  that, 
upon  the  occurrence  of  certain  conditions,  life  (which  pre- 
viously existed  in  potentia]  should  suddenly  manifest  itself, 
such  a  possible  process  of  evolution  does  not  make  it  less 
the  fact  that  for  all  our  experience  no  life  arises  save  from 
what  already  lives,  and  could  never  come  to  be  save  through 
some  adequate  cause. 

Secondly,  there  is  the  chasm  between  everything  which 
feels  and  all  that  is  devoid  of  sensation.  Everyone  must 
admit  that  this  chasm  exists — everyone,  that  is,  who  is  not 
prepared  to  affirm  that  the  pen  he  writes  with  and  the  ink 
he  uses  are  not  both  sentient  existences. 

For  ourselves,  we  are  profoundly  convinced  that  we  cause 
no  pang  when  we  pluck  an  apple  from  a  tree,  and  that  we 
may  send  grain  to  the  mill  with  a  perfectly  good  conscience. 

But  if  the  living  world  enables  us  to  understand  these  two 
great  instances  of  discontinuity,  that  world,  when  we  include 
men  within  it,  makes  us  aware  of  a  chasm  much  greater 
still :  we  mean  the  chasm  which  yawns  between  every  being 

1  See  ante,  p.  213. 


288  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

capable  of  self-consciousness  and  a  recognition  that  some 
things  are  true  and  some  actions  laudable,  and  all  that  is 
devoid  of  self-conscious  life. 

The  laws  which  we  have  seen  to  be  impressed,  not  only 
upon  mineral  species,  but  also  upon  structure  as  known  to 
us  in  plants  and  animals,  though  they  cannot  be  said  to 
coincide  with  the  dictates  of  human  reason,  yet  proclaim 
order  as  innate  in  the  world  so  far  as  it  is  known  to  us;  and 
law  and  order  are  certainly  akin  to  intelligence  taken  in  the 
broadest  significance  we  can  assign  to  it. 

We  have  briefly  considered  certain  facts  concerning  the 
inorganic  and  organic  worlds,  but  to  form  any  satisfactory 
conception  of  either,  it  is  necessary  to  take  into  our  con- 
sideration, as  best  we  may,  the  entire  cosmos  as  one  whole. 

Preceding  considerations  must,  we  think,  make  it  plain  to 
every  thoughtful  mind  possessing  a  somewhat  wide  grasp  of 
science,  that  the  universe  does  not  consist  of  an  unordered 
flux  of  amorphous  matter. 

So  much  is  evident,  a  posteriori.  Experience  and  science 
show  that  something  analogous  to  reason,  as  we  know  it, 
pervades  the  great  whole,  the  existence  of  which  is  revealed 
to  us  by  the  synthesis  of  our  mental  powers. 

Can  we  gain  any  further  light  as  to  this  matter  by  a  priori 
reasoning  ? 

We  saw  in  our  last  chapter  that  the  law  of  causation  is  a 
primary,  universal,  and  self-evident  objective  truth,  which 
declares  that  there  must  be  a  cause  for  every  change  which 
takes  place,  for  every  new  existence  which  comes  into  being 
(an  extreme  form  of  "change"),  for  the  special  concrete 
conditions  of  whatever  exists,  and  for  the  very  existence  of 
anything  which  has  not  within  itself  a  sufficient  reason  for 
its  being.  We  also  saw J  that  science  is  continually  occupied 
with  investigations  concerning  causes. 

1  See  ante,  p.  255. 


CAUSES  OF  SCIENTIFIC  KNOWLEDGE  289 

But  the  world  is  in  a  condition  of  incessant  change,  and 
new  existences  are  constantly  arising  within  it.  The  entire 
universe  known  to  us  is  also  incessantly  changing,  and  new 
conditions  are  incessantly  arising,  for  the  planetary  and 
sidereal  bodies  are  never  for  two  instants  in  the  same  relat- 
ive positions,  and,  apparently,  their  relative  position  of  any 
one  moment  never  recurs,  but  is  ceaselessly  replaced  by 
another  altogether  novel. 

That  each  and  every  one  of  these  changes,  new  collo- 
cations, and  new  existences  must  have  had  its  causes — 
its  group  of  causes — cannot  be  denied;  and  more  and 
more  of  these  are  every  day  being  discovered  by  men  of 
science. 

But  putting  aside  now  all  questions  as  to  the  causes  of 
existences  and  changes  considered  individually  or  in  groups, 
how  about  the  universe  considered  as  one  great,  unimagin- 
ably complex  whole  ?  In  the  first  place,  does  reason  abso- 
lutely show  that  it  must  have  had  a  beginning  ?  That  our 
own  world,  her  sister  planets,  and  our  whole  solar  system 
must  have  had  a  beginning  can  hardly  be  questioned ;  but 
it  does  not  seem  necessarily  thence  to  follow  that  the  same 
must  be  said  of  the  whole  cosmos.  It  certainly  is  not  evi- 
dent to  us  that  the  cosmos,  considered  as  one  vast  unity, 
must  have  had  a  beginning,  or  need  ever  come  to  an  end. 
For  all  we  see,  the  universe  may  constitute  a  true  system  of 
perpetual  motion  in  one  of  two  ways.  It  may  be  conceived 
of  (i)  as  eternally  passing,  as  one  whole,  from  a  state  of 
nebula  to  that  of  suns,  with  their  attendant  planets,  their 
satellites,  etc.,  and  thence  backwards  to  a  state  of  nebula 
once  more,  and  so  alternating  in  one  unending  rhythm,  un- 
ceasingly pulsating  to  and  from  a  nebular  condition,  for 
ever  and  ever ;  or  (2)  as  undergoing  such  changes  partially, 
at  one  time  here,  at  another  time  there,  such  a  change  eter- 
nally creeping,  as  it  were,  over  the  face  of  the  cosmos,  so 


THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

that  each  part  in  turn,  but  never  the  whole  simultaneously, 
may  undergo  such  a  transformation. 

Such  conditions,  for  anything  that  reason  can  affirm  with 
certainty,  might  be  eternal  as  the  result  of  an  eternal  arrange- 
ment or  collocation  of  causal  agencies  and  conditions. 

As  we  before  pointed  out,1  our  reason  by  no  means  affirms 
that  everything  must  have  a  cause,  but  only  changes,  new 
existences,  and  existences  which  do  not  contain  within 
themselves  any  sufficient  reasons  for  their  being. 

Now  if  the  universe  ever  had  a  beginning,  it  must  evi- 
dently have  had  a  cause.  If  it  never  had  a  beginning,  it 
must  as  a  whole  have  eternally  been  what  we  now  see  it  to 
be,  substantially,  whatever  the  succession  of  changes  in  its 
various  parts.  It  could  never  have  had  the  form  of  one 
universally  diffused  and  everywhere  similar  substance,  unless 
it  had  been  acted  on  from  without  by  something  external  to 
itself.  The  attribute  of  instability  applied  to  the  conception 
of  a  homogeneous  universe  could  not,  as  has  been  most  ab- 
surdly supposed,  account  for  the  development  of  the  uni- 
verse from  a  primitively  simple  condition.  The  term 
"  instability  "  is  a  mere  abstract  term  denoting  the  quality, 
as  such,  of  what  is  unstable.  But  whatever  is  unstable  is 
not  thereby  endowed  with  any  active  power;  it  is  merely 
easily  upset  and  disturbed  by  anything  external  to  it.  Any- 
thing quite  homogeneous  might  be  unstable  to  the  most 
extreme  degree  possible,  and  yet  remain  absolutely  un- 
changed forever  if  nothing  external  ever  came  to  act  upon 
it.  It  must  be  an  action  from  without,  since  in  a  universe 
absolutely  homogeneous  no  possible  change  could  ever  take 
place  from  within.  For  whatever  is  thus  homogeneous  must 
be  everywhere  identical  in  the  mode  of  its  being  and  activ- 
ity, and  therefore  could  never  change  of  itself  unless  it  were 
pervaded  by  some  existence  really  distinct  from  it,  change 

1  See  ante,  p.  255. 


CAUSES  OF  SCIENTIFIC  KNOWLEDGE  2gi 

produced  by  which,  though  materially  an  action  from  within, 
would  be  essentially  an  action  from  without — namely,  the 
action  of  something  distinct  from  and  external  to  it  in 
nature  and  being. 

One  most  important  consequence  follows  from  the  fact 
that  the  universe  is  necessarily  one.  Since  the  universe  em- 
braces all  that  we  know  now  or  can  conceive  of  as  hereafter 
to  be  discovered,  it  is  all-embracing.  Were  it  not  this,  it 
could  not  be  the  universe. 

Now,  since  the  universe  is  thus  one,  it  could  never  it- 
self have  been  evolved  by  any  process  of  "  natural  selec- 
tion." An  eternal  universe  could  never  have  been  naturally 
selected — that  is,  have  proved  itself,  through  competition, 
to  have  been  a  universe  able  to  survive  others,  since  it 
never  could  have  had  any  competitor.  Therefore,  if  the 
universe  is  eternal,  it  must  have  existed  from  all  eternity 
in  the  multiform  complexity  in  which  we  know  it  now  to 
be. 

On  this  account,  reason  postulates  a  cause  for  the  universe, 
considered  as  one  whole,  even  though  it  were  eternal.  A 
cause  is  required  to  account  for  the  special  orderly  condi- 
tions, and  the  definite  actions  of  the  multitudes  of  secondary 
causes  it  contains,  the  specific  laws  of  the  bodies  and  sub- 
stances which  enter  into  its  composition,  and  the  peculiar 
collocations  of  the  substances,  causes,  and  conditions  which 
pervade  it.  For  the  material  universe  cannot  be  shown  to 
contain  within  itself  any  sufficient  cause  for  its  existence — 
for  its  existence  as  it  exists  and  in  no  other  mode.  An  eter- 
nal complex  mixture  of  different  substances,  with  very 
different  powers,  all  harmoniously  co-ordinated,  and  which 
were  never  otherwise  than  harmoniously  co-ordinated,  could 
not  evidently  contain  within  itself  the  sufficient  cause  for  its 
own  existence ;  and  the  greater  the  number  of  the  natural 
laws  which  physical  science  reveals  to  us,  thus  acting  in  har- 


THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 


mony,  so  much  the  more  does  reason  make  evident  to  us 
the  necessity  for  one  great  integrating  and  pervading  cause 
sustaining  that  harmony  unchanged.  Such  a  cause  is  neces- 
sary for  the  existence  of  the  universe  at  all,  and  however 
far  back  the  duration  of  such  a  universe  be  supposed  to  ex- 
tend, even  to  eternity,  so  far  back  must  the  duration  of  its 
cause  evidently  extend. 

The  existence  and  operation  of  that  cause  can  be  no 
more  dispensed  with  at  one  epoch  than  at  another,  and  so 
backwards  for  an  eternity  of  duration.  Hence,  an  ever- 
present,  constantly  causing,  and  everywhere  active  and 
sustaining  principle  must  endure  and  energise  now,  as  in  the 
past,  and  forever  onwards  for  a  future  eternity,  should  the 
universe  persist  eternally  under  the  same  laws. 

As  to  that  cause  we  can,  in  some  respects,  judge  of  its 
nature  from  its  effects,  since  a  cause  must,  as  we  have  seen,1 
always  be  at  least  adequate  to  produce  the  effects  it  causes. 
As  we  said  before,  '  '  Nemo  dat  quod  non  habet,  '  '  and  what 
experience  and  reason  combined  assure  us  is  true  with  every 
portion  of  the  universe  open  to  our  examination,  reason  de- 
clares to  us  no  less  necessary  when  applied  to  the  universe 
considered  as  one  whole. 

What,  then,  do  our  powers  of  sense-perception,  observation, 
experimentation,  reasoning,  and  intuition,  combine  to  assure 
us  respecting  the  nature  of  the  causal  principle  underlying 
and  pervading  the  entire  cosmos?  No  student  of  science 
can  dispute  that  our  faculties  combine  to  bear  witness  to  the 
universal  prevalence  throughout  it  of  an  unceasing  uniform- 
ity and  a  definite  order.  We  know  it  to  be  not  a  chaos  but 
a  cosmos,  possessing  such  a  uniformity,  with  respect  to  all 
the  different  successions  and  co-existences  within  it,  as  to 
be  not  inaptly  termed  a  universe  governed  by  natural  laws 
—  that  expression  serving  conveniently  to  summarise  all  the 

1  See  ante,  p.  262. 


CAUSES  OF  SCIENTIFIC  KNOWLEDGE  293 

various  uniformities  of  orderly  successions  and  co-existences 
which  have  been  observed  within  it. 

Though  the  order  which  we  thus  see  pervade  the  organic 
and  inorganic  worlds  alike,  does  not  clearly  proclaim  the 
existence  throughout  the  irrational  universe  of  an  intelligence 
in  a  certain  extent  analogous  to  the  reason  of  man,  there  is, 
nevertheless,  an  unmistakable  congruity  between  order  and 
intelligence,  such  that  it  becomes  impossible  to  regard  any- 
thing non-intelligent  as  the  dominating  causal  principle. 
Not  only  would  it  be  a  verbal  contradiction,  but  it  would 
contradict  the  evidence  which  science  affords  us  on  every 
side,  to  proclaim  "  unreason  "  as  pervading  the  orderly  uni- 
verse, which  is  made  known  to  us  by  physics  and  biology, 
quite  apart  from  any  consideration  of  man  and  of  his  works. 
But  when  we  add  the  consideration  of  human  faculty  to  the 
other  powers  and  existences  we  know  the  cosmos  to  possess, 
it  must  assume  an  altogether  different  character  in  our  eyes. 
So  considered,  its  causal  principle  must  be  indeed  a  rational 
principle,  since  it  has  been  adequate  to  be  the  cause  of  the 
reason  and  intellect  of  man. 

Human  beings,  whatever  the  feebleness,  follies,  and  de- 

[:  fects  of  multitudes  of  them,  are,  nevertheless,  endowed  with 

the  wonderful  power  of  knowing  their  own  existence,  of  re- 
flecting on  it  and  on  the  universe  which  is  their  abode,  and 
of  recognising  abysses  of  space  and  time  far  exceeding  the 

\  utmost  possible  powers   of   their   imagination.     Man   can 

apprehend  existence  and  non-existence,  necessity,  impossi- 
bility, and  contingency,  and,  most  wonderful  of  all,  he  can 
perceive  truth  as  such,  the  existence  and  bearings  of  object- 
ive relations  and  verities,  which  are  absolute  and  necessary, 
recognising  them,  meantime,  for  what  they  truly  are. 

The  adequate  cause  and  principle  of  a  nature  thus  endowed 
must  possess  powers  indefinitely  exceeding  that  human 
reason  which  it  has  called  into  being.  It  must  be  intelli- 


294  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

gent,  not  only  beyond  all  our  possible  powers  of  imagina- 
tion, but  beyond  all  human  conception.  For  the  special 
character  of  those  primary  and  fundamental  principles  of 
our  intelligence  which  we  have  passed  in  review,  is  that  they 
need  no  proof,  being  self-evident  in  and  by  themselves, 
while  they  constitute  the  indispensable  foundation  of  all 
proof  whatever  it  may  be.  Such  primary  principles  may  be 
said  to  be  rays  of  light  which  radiate  into  our  intellect  from 
a  source  which  is  entirely  hidden  from  our  direct  mental 
gaze,  and  only  to  be  imperfectly  apprehended  through 
meditation,  reflection,  and  inference.  Truth  being  the  cor- 
respondence of  thought  with  things,  what  must  be  that 
hidden  cause  in  a  correspondence  with  which  the  truth  of 
all  our  highest,  ultimate,  and  most  certain  intellectual  prin- 
ciples consists  ? 

After  pondering  over  the  fact  that  the  cause  of  the  uni- 
verse is  the  cause  of  all  truth  and  of  all  the  knowledge  to 
which  it  is  possible  for  us  to  attain,  it  seems  impossible  to 
regard  it  as  other  than  an  eternal  and  ever-present  reason 
latent  in  all  the  phenomena  of  which  we  can  take  cognisance. 
If,  then,  we  turn  back  our  mental  gaze  over  the  devious 
path  we  have  traversed,  and  survey  it  in  the  light  thus 
gained,  an  important  consequence  appears  necessarily  to 
follow. 

We  have  considered,  in  successive  chapters,  a  variety  of 
intervals,  breaches  of  continuity,  and  fresh  departures  which 
have  now  and  again  occurred  in  nature.  We  have  taken  note 
of  the  gap  between  the  non-living  and  the  living,  the  insen- 
tient and  the  sentient,  the  irrational  and  the  rational.  But 
these  breaches  of  continuity  present  a  difficulty  and  seem 
repugnant  to  the  mind  of  the  modern  student  of  nature.  It 
needs  the  distinct  recognition  of  a  profound  and  pervading 
reason,  as  underlying  and  governing  nature,  satisfactorily  to 
do  away  with  such  difficulty  and  repugnance,  and  to  enable 


CAUSES  OF  SCIENTIFIC  KNOWLEDGE  2$$ 

us  to  apprehend  how  such  difficulty  and  repugnance  may  be 
merely  due  to  the  impotence  of  our  imagination  to  picture 
to  itself  how  such  new  departures  could  ever  have  taken 
place.  We  must  frankly  concede  the  utter  impossibility  of 
any  imagination  thereof,  while  at  the  same  time  recognising 
once  more  the  important  truth  that  our  inability  to  imagine 
anything  is  no  necessary  bar  to  our  conception  of  it  or  to 
our  perception  that  what  is  unimaginable  is  none  the  less 
necessarily  true  and  certain. 

Other  marvels  which  have  similarly  tried  our  imaginative 
powers  have  been  the  varied  instincts  wherewith  so  many 
animals  are  endowed,  and  the  first  occurrence  of  the  exter- 
nal expression  of  abstract  ideas  by  human  gestures  and  vocal 
utterances.  But  a  cause  replete  with  intelligence  as  well  as 
power,  may  serve  perfectly  well  to  assure  us  that  however 
little  we  can  picture  such  energies  to  our  mental  vision,  the 
determination  of  blind  psychical  energies  and  of  spontaneous 
intelligent  efforts,  resulting  in  the  external  manifestation 
of  new-born  ideas  (language),  forms  part,  and  a  rational 
part,  of  that  wonderful  complexity  of  activities  of  the  most 
diverse  natures  and  degrees,  which  together  compose  the 
wondrous  cosmos,  the  gradual  and  patient  comprehension 
and  explanation  (so  far  as  possible)  of  which  it  is  the  task  of 
science  to  pursue.  It  is  its  most  noble  task  gradually,  and 
step  by  step,  to  make  more  and  more  plainly  manifest  to 
the  reason  of  man  that  intelligence  (not  only  unimaginable 
but  inconceivable)  which  seems  latent  in  the  cosmos,  and 
to  reveal  itself  diversely  in  the  manifold  aspects  of  the  uni- 
verse of  which  it  is,  in  our  eyes,  the  evident  and  ultimate 
cause. 


CHAPTER  X 

THE  NATURE  OF  THE  GROUNDWORK  OF 
SCIENCE 

THE  various  preliminary  inquiries  and  considerations, 
which  it  has  appeared  to  us  necessary  to  make  or  en- 
tertain before  addressing  ourselves  to  the  main  question, 
having  been  now  disposed  of,  we  will  endeavour  to  draw  out 
what  appears  to  us  to  be  the  answer  to  that  main  question 
— the  question,  namely,  What  is  the  groundwork  of  science  ? 

As  we  said  in  the  beginning  of  this  book,  we  selected  for 
our  title  the  phrase  "  groundwork  of  science  "  because  its 
object  was  to  examine  the  essential  nature  of  the  efforts 
of  scientific  workers,  of  the  tools  they  have  to  use,  as  well 
as  of  that  which  constitutes  their  field  of  labour. 

The  question,  then,  as  to  what  is  the  nature  of  the 
groundwork  of  science  resolves  itself  into  the  three  sub- 
ordinate questions : 

(1)  What    is   the  nature  of  that  field  wherein  scientific 
labourers  have  to  work :  what  is  the  matter  of  science  ? 

(2)  What  are  the  tools  which  it  is  absolutely  necessary  for 
such  workers  to  make  use  of  in  their  labour  ? 

(3)  What  must   be  the  nature  and  qualifications  of  the 
workers  themselves  in  order  that  they  may  be  able  to  obtain 
good  results  from  their  labour  ? 

Assuming  the  validity  of  our  contention  that  we  possess 
an  intuition  of  the  extended,  we  have  seen  that  the  matter 

296 


NATURE   OF  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE        297 

of  science  consists  of  two  divisions:  (a)  a  division  made 
up  of  what  is  physical  and  material,  and  (b)  a  division 
made  up  of  what  is  mental  and  ideal. 

The  first  division  includes  all  extended  bodies  and  their 
energies ;  for  no  concrete  existence  can  possibly  be  merely 
passive,  but  must  actively  respond  to  stimuli  (as  iron  to  the 
blacksmith's  hammer)  according  to  definite  internal  laws, 
by  which  powers  and  activities  it  is  we  recognise  the  nature 
of  each  such  concrete  existence. 

Some  readers  may  object  to  our  subdivision  of  the  matter 
of  science  on  the  ground  that  we  have  assigned  no  place  to 
entities  of  such  supreme  importance  as  the  various  physical 
energies. 

We  have  not,  however,  really  omitted  them,  for  we  in- 
clude them  amongst  the  active  powers  of  material  bodies. 
We  have  no  experience  of  any  physical  energy  save  in  con- 
nection with  some  extended  substance  from  which  it  is 
sometimes  said  to  emanate,  and  thence  to  be  transmitted  to 
others.  But  the  terms  energy,  force,  light,  heat,  sound, 
etc.,  are  but  so  many  abstract  terms.  We  have  no  evidence 
that  they  can  really  denote  "  substances,"  but  only  certain 
real  actions  of  real  bodies  considered  in  the  abstract.  Thus 
light  and  heat  are  commonly  thought  of  as  set  going  on 
their  radiant  but  very  unequal  course  by  the  fires  of  the  sun 
(as  one  source),  and  thence  transmitted  by  the  universally 
disposed  ether  to  the  surrounding  bodies  of  the  solar  system 
beyond.  Similarly,  the  vibratory  agitation  of  some  sensu- 
ous body  sets  going  corresponding  vibrations  in  the  air, 
which  may  ultimately  cause  similar  agitations  within  the 
ears  of  men  and  animals,  so  giving  rise  ultimately  to  what 
we  know  as  "  sounds." 

This  way  of  speaking  of  the  transmission  of  energies  has 
not  unnaturally  arisen  from  the  discovery  of  what  was 
originally  termed  "  the  correlation  of  the  physical  forces," 


298  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

in  other  words,  the  discovery  of  the  quantitative  equivalence 
which  exists  between  the  different  kinds  of  actions  which 
different  bodies  exhibit,  as,  e.  g.,  between  heat,  light, 
chemical  action,  motion,  etc. 

But  though  it  is  convenient  to  express  such  definitely  cor- 
relative actions  of  different  kinds  in  terms  of  persistent 
"  energy,"  and  of  different  kinds  of  persistent  energy,  yet 
all  the  physical  phenomena  capable  of  expression  in  such 
terms  may  also  be  described  in  terms  denoting  the  existence 
of  real  bodies  exercising  real  activities  in  different  modes. 
The  conception  of  the  same,  or  of  different  bodies  being 
successively  affected,  and  acting  successively  in  different 
manners,  with  a  quantitative  equivalence  between  the  modes 
of  their  affection  and  activity,  seems  a  sufficient  conception 
to  apply  to  the  mechanism  and  action  of  a  moving  body 
(e.  g.,  a  locomotive  engine)  and  one  as  consonant  with  the 
facts  as  is  the  conception  of  a  force  which  is  transformed 
from  heat  into  motion.  On  the  other  hand,  to  speak  of 
energy  persisting  and  being  transformed,  favours  the  con- 
ception of  energy  as  some  objectively  existing  substance, 
which  really  passes  out  of  one  body  and  into  another,  and 
has  a  positively  enduring,  though  protean,  existence. 

It  is  often  said  that  bodies  may  by  impact  communicate 
motion,  as  when  one  suspended  ball,  falling  against  a  row 
of  others  (suspended  so  as  to  be  all  on  the  same  level), 
ceases  itself  to  move,  while  another,  the  terminal  one  of  the 
series,  begins  to  be  in  motion.  We  have  here,  however,  no 
real  evidence  of  any  "  communication  "  or  "  transference  " 
of  "  motion,"  but  only  of  successive  and  correlative  motions. 
The  above-noted  frequent  mode  of  expression  shows  the 
existence  of  a  tendency  to  regard  the  abstract  quality 
"  motion  "  as  a  substantial  entity,  actually  passing  from 
one  body  and  into  another. 

Thus  it  has  sometimes  been  said  that  a  coal-bed  contains 


NATURE   OF   THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE       299 

the  heat  and  light  of  the  sun  of  bygone  ages  shut  up,  like 
enchanted  knights,  within  it,  and  set  free  again  when  that 
coal  comes  to  be  burned.  But,  in  fact,  it  contains  nothing 
of  the  kind,  but  is  itself  in  a  state  resulting  from  bygone 
solar  energy,  and  will  under  certain  circumstances  become 
active  in  ways  similar  to  the  activities  of  the  sun  which 
produced  those  results  in  it. 

But  the  usual  mode  of  scientific  expression  relating  to 
these  various  activities  of  real  bodies,  as  well  as  the  popular 
way  of  speaking  of  light,  heat,  etc.,  are,  no  doubt,  con- 
venient ;  and  there  can  be  no  objection  to  their  use  provided 
only  it  be  fjorne  in  mind  that  we  have  no  evidence  of 
these  energies  being  themselves  substances,  instead  of  only 
peculiar  modes  of  diverse  action  in  substances  which  really 
exist.  It  is  certainly  different  real  things  which  are  now 
and  again  hot,  luminous,  sonorous,  or  moving  from  place 
to  place. 

Such  movements  are  perhaps  the  commonest  of  all  our 
experiences,  and  moving  things  are  constantly  said  (as  we 
have  just  remarked)  to  move  from  place  to  place  with 
greater  or  less  rapidity  in  a  longer  or  shorter  space  of  time. 

It  seems  to  us  needful,  then,  to  make  a  few  remarks  upon 
those  three  universally  existing  and  continually  employed 
conceptions — motion,  space,  and  time. 

As  to  motion,  our  conception  of  that  idea  and  our  intel- 
lectual recognition  of  the  motion  of  moving  bodies  are  both 
called  forth  by  our  sensuous  perception  of  the  latter,  and 
mental  images  of  moving  objects  also  sustain  that  conception 
after  they  have  been  so  elicited ;  just  as  our  idea  of  exten- 
sion is  elicited  and  sustained  by  parallel  sensuous  perceptions 
and  imaginations.  But  when  once  thus  called  forth,  our 
idea  "  motion  is  a  single  and  primary  idea,  and  cannot  be 
resolved  into  more  fundamental  conceptions. 

Now  there  are  no  facts  of  experience  which  have  been, 


30O  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

and  are  more  frequent  with  all  of  us  than  movements, 
especially  relative  changes  of  place  of  solid  bodies. 

We  have  that  experience  in  every  movement  of  our  own 
frame,  either  in  its  change  of  place  as  a  whole,  or  in  the 
movements  of  its  various  parts.  Every  breeze  which  sways 
the  smallest  branches  of  a  tree,  or  but  makes  its  leaves  to 
vibrate,  reveals  it  to  us.  Every  cloud  we  see  blown  across 
the  sky  and  every  dust-eddy  gives  us  that  experience.  By 
movements,  the  dawning  human  intellect  is  first  aroused  to 
activity  as  the  infant  notices  the  movements  and  gestures 
of  those  around  it,  and  the  movements  it  can  itself  impart 
to  objects  it  begins  to  grasp  or  kick  against.  *  In  boyhood 
the  throwing  of  stones  or  balls,  the  movements  of  marbles, 
the  spinning  of  tops,  and  all  games  up  to  football  and 
cricket,  continually  reinforce  the  experiences  gained  at  the 
dawn  of  mental  life. 

Indeed,  the  motion  of  solid  bodies  is  the  most  primitive, 
most  constant,  and  most  universal  of  all  our  experiences. 
Thus  the  abstract  idea  "  motion  "  comes  most  readily  be- 
fore the  mind,  and  at  first  it  seems  that  nothing  can  be 
easier  than  to  understand  the  movements  of  bodies,  and 
what  is  meant  by  the  term  denoting  that  idea.  And  for 
most  purposes  of  science  an  apprehension  of  that  ordinary 
meaning  is  aimply  sufficient ;  but  here,  including  as  we  do, 
and  must  do,  in  our  purview  the  science  of  sciences,  we 
think  it  incumbent  on  us  to  endeavour  to  draw  out  more 
carefully  the  significance  of  the  idea  with  which  we  are  now 
concerned. 

When  we  proceed  to  study  our  conception  of  motion, 
various  difficulties  and  problems  present  themselves  for  solu- 
tion. Obviously,  any  given  object,  e.  g. ,  a  feather  blown 
by  the  wind,  must  be  one  and  the  same  thing  when  so  pro- 
pelled as  when  resting  on  the  ground.  Nevertheless,  it  is 
no  less  obviously  in  a  different  state  when  in  motion  from 


NATURE   OF  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE       301 

that  in  which  it  is  when  at  rest.  What,  then,  do  we  really 
mean  by  its  "  motion  "  ?  As  we  have  said,  that  term  is 
abstract,  and  therefore  what  it  denotes  cannot  really  exist 
in  the  concrete;  yet  there  must  be  some  concrete  reality 
which  is  the  foundation  of  that  abstraction. 

Now  in  all  our  experience,  whatever  has  moved  has 
always  moved  away  from  the  vicinity  of  something  and  in 
the  direction  of  something  else.  This  uniform  experience 
must  of  course  prevent  us  from  being  able  to  imagine  motion 
taking  place  in  any  other  mode.  But  can  we  conceive 
of  its  taking  place  otherwise  ?  To  us  it  seems  perfectly  clear 
that  motion  must  be,  not  only  in  some  definite  direction 
at  each  instant,  but  also  from  one  entity  and  towards 
another. 

Some  of  my  readers  may  think  that,  were  all  objects  save 
one  annihilated,  one  might  nevertheless  traverse  space. 
Now  if  space  were  a  real,  permanent  existence,  then  any 
object  moving  through  it  would  of  course  proceed  from  the 
vicinity  of  one  part  of  it  to  the  vicinity  of  another  portion 
of  space ;  but  if,  as  we  believe  to  be  the  case,  there  is  no 
such  thing  as  "  space  "  at  all,  then  evidently  no  object  could 
traverse  it,  for  no  object  could  traverse  that  which  has  no 
existence. 

But  if  space  does  not  exist,  it  is  evident  that  the  universe, 
considered  as  one  whole,  must  be  absolutely  incapable  of 
motion,  save  internally.  Such  is  the  case,  since  the  uni- 
verse must  contain  everything,  or  it  would  not  be  the 
universe;  and  therefore  there  can  be  nothing  for  it  to 
approach  or  recede  from. 

Thus  motion  is,  or  includes,  a  relation  of  one  body  to 
another  or  to  other  bodies.  But  can  this  be  all  ?  Can 
there  be  nothing  more  objective  in  motion  ? 

We  have  seen  the  wide-spread  tendency  which  exists  to 
speak  of  the  physical  energies  as  if  they  were  material  sub- 


3O2  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

stances.  Is  this  the  result  of  a  pure  delusion,  or  can  there 
be  a  true  and  valid  objective  foundation  for  it  ? 

Evidently  motion,  heat,  light,  etc.,  cannot  be  so  many 
material  substances  co-existing  beside,  or  within,  any 
moving,  hot,  or  luminous  body.  The  days  of  "  phlogiston  " 
are  at  an  end.  But  is  it  possible  that  they  may  each  sever- 
ally be  a  manifestation  of  some  immaterial  constituent  of 
bodies  ? 

Every  material  body  known  to  us  we  know  through  some 
power  or  quality  which  we  perceive  it  to  possess,  whereby 
we  also  distinguish  it  from  other  bodies.  But  the  active 
powers  which  thus  pervade  material  bodies  are  no  more 
themselves  material  than  are  motion,  light,  and  heat. 

But  what  is  matter  ?  It  is  an  entity  perceived  intellectu- 
ally by  the  aid  of  our  sensitivity,  and  constituting  those 
substantial  objects  of  which  our  senses  take  cognisance. 
Through  our  sense-perceptions  the  intellect  acquires  an  in- 
tuition, not  only  of  extended  bodies,  but  also  of  matter,  as, 
at  least  in  part,  composing  them.  Yet  though  matter  is 
thus  constantly  and  familiarly  known  as  existing  in  bodies, 
pure  and  simple,  "  matter  "  itself  remains  unknown,  and 
has  never  been  revealed  to  any  man,  and  shows  no  signs  of 
existing  in  rerum  naturd. 

What  we  always  perceive  is  matter  of  one  or  another 
definite  kind.  It  is  always  a  "  sort  of  matter,"  and  never 
simply"  matter,"  which  we  come  to  know.  Matter  seems 
never  to  exist  unmodified,  though  it  abounds  in  unimagin- 
able transformations  of  material  substances  of  all  kinds. 

Thus  every  material  body  or  substance  known  to  us  seems 
to  consist  of  something  corresponding  with  our  idea  of  mat- 
ter, and  something  immaterial — some  energy  existing  with 
the  matter  whereby  that  body  or  substance  comes  to  possess 
and  exercise  those  active  powers  which  make  it  known  to  us 
as  being  whatever  kind  of  body  or  substance  it  may  happen 


NA  TURE   OF  THE   GRO  UND  WORK  OF  SCIENCE        303 

to  be — that  immaterial  constituent  being  the  active  and 
dominant  principle.  But  we  do  not  by  any  means  intend 
to  assert  that  this  view  is  an  absolutely  certain  and  evident 
one.  We  nevertheless  regard  it  as  highly  probable,  and  we 
think  it  not  unlikely  that  this  may  be  the  truth  which  the 
system  of  Monism  shadows  forth,  as  it  seems  to  us,  imper- 
fectly and  irrationally. 

We  have  spoken  of  any  motion  of  the  universe  in  its  en- 
tirety as  being  an  impossibility.  Some  of  our  readers  may 
exclaim,  "  This  is,  indeed,  impossible,  because  the  universe 
is,  and  must  be,  infinite."  But  this  is  an  utter  mistake, 
and  one  due  to  that  inveterate  slavery  of  the  reason  to  the 
imagination  under  which  so  many  persons — even  some  men 
of  science — seem  content  to  remain. 

We  have  never  seen  anything  with  nothing  beyond  it,  and 
therefore,  try  as  we  may,  we  can  never  imagine  a  final  limit 
outside  which  nothing  is  or  can  be.  We  cannot  imagine  a 
boundary  line  over  which  no  arm  could  be  thrust,  and  be- 
yond which  no  glance  even  could  ever  be  cast.  Such  being 
the  case,  it  is,  and  must  be,  an  utterly  futile  attempt  to  im- 
agine the  universe  as  terminated,  and  without  any  possibil- 
ity of  existence  beyond  it.  But  our  impotence  to  imagine 
the  universe  as  finite  is  no  reason  whatever  for  thinking  that 
finite  it  cannot  be. 

Passing  now  from  the  consideration  of  the  extent  of  the 
universe,  it  seems  needful  to  say  a  few  words  with  respect 
to  prevalent  conceptions  respecting  its  composition,  what 
may  be  the  ultimate  nature  of  all  the  various  activities  it 
manifests,  and  whether  they  can  be  resolved  into  one  funda- 
mental activity. 

Nothing  is  more  marked,  or  more  remarkable,  than  the 
tendency  of  many  scientific  men  to  try  to  describe  all 
other  phenomena  in  terms  of  motion,  and  especially  by  the 
motion  of  minute  moving  particles.  This  may  be  in  terms 


304  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

of  such  moving  particles,  "  molecular  motion,"  or  a"  dance 
of  atoms,"  of  a  differently  complex  pattern  in  each  case,1 
or  it  may  be  in  terms  of  brain  waves  or  thrills  traversing 
the  nerves,  in  the  case  of  feelings  or  of  thoughts.  A  me- 
chanical explanation  of  all  nature  is  an  avowed  ideal  with 
many  men,  and  is  felt  as  a  comfort  by  very  many  more. 
So  wide-spread  a  tendency  must  be  due  to  no  less  wide- 
spread a  cause,  and  it  is  a  fact  that  men  do  feel  a  certain 
satisfaction  and  mental  rest  in  such  an  interpretation  of 
phenomena  of  all  orders,  from  physical  energies  to  feelings 
and  thoughts.  What,  then,  may  be  the  reason  for  this 

1  A  striking  example  of  this  tendency  has  been  shown  by  Professor  Haeckel, 
who  ventures  to  describe  atoms  as  if  he  had  actually  seen  and  handled  them. 
He  tells  us  that  (in  his  Monism,  pp.  26  and  32  of  the  English  Translation, 
Adam  and  Charles  Black,  1894) :  "  To  these  original  or  mass  atoms — the  ulti- 
mate discrete  particles  of  inert  '  ponderable  '  matter — we  can  with  more  or  less 
probability  ascribe  a  number  of  eternal  and  inalienable  fundamental  attributes  ; 
they  are  probably  everywhere  in  space  of  like  magnitude  and  constitution.  Al- 
though possessing  a  very  definite  finite  magnitude,  they  are,  by  virtue  of  their 
very  nature,  indivisible.  Their  shape  we  may  take  to  be  spherical ;  they  are 
inert  (in  the  physical  sense),  unchangeable,  inelastic,  and  impenetrable  by  the 
ether.  Apart  from  the  attribute  of  inertia,  the  most  important  characteristic  of 
these  ultimate  atoms  is  their  chemical  affinity— their  tendency  to  apply  them- 
selves to  one  another  and  combine  in  small  groups  in  an  orderly  fashion.  These 
fixed  groups  ...  of  primitive  atoms  are  the  atoms  of  the  elements — the 
well-known  '  indivisible'  atoms  of  chemistry,  the  qualitative,  and,  so  far  as  our 
present  empirical  knowledge  goes,  unchangeable  distinctions  of  our  chemical 
elements  are  therefore  solely  conditioned  by  the  varying  number  and  disposition 
of  the  similar  primitive  atoms  of  which  they  are  composed."  As  to  the  most 
remote  past,  he  speaks  of  "An  unbroken  series  of  natural  events  following  an 
orderly  course  of  evolution  according  to  fixed  laws  .  .  .  from  a  primeval 
chaos  to  the  present  '  order  of  the  cosmos.'  At  the  outset,  there  is  nothing  in 
infinite  space  but  mobile  elastic  ether  and  innumerable  similar  separate  particles, 
the  primitive  atoms,  scattered  throughout  it  in  the  form  of  dust ;  perhaps  these 
are  themselves  originally  '  points  of  condensation'  of  the  vibrating  '  substance,' 
the  remainder  of  which  constitute  the  ether.  The  atoms  of  our  elements  arise 
from  the  grouping  together  in  definite  numbers  of  the  primitive  atoms  or  atoms 
of  mass." 


NATURE   OF  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE        305 

feeling  of  satisfaction  in  the  explanation  of  matters  the  most 
diverse  by  a  conception  of  solid  bodies  in  motion? 

As  we  have  pointed  out  in  preceding  chapters,  we  can 
imagine  nothing  except  what  our  senses  have  previously 
experienced  either  as  a  whole  or  in  its  constituent  parts. 
This  close  connection  between  experience  and  imagination 
has  for  its  consequence  the  following  law  of  association : 

Facts  of  experience  are  reproduced  in  our  imagination 
with  the  greater  ease  and  readiness  the  more  frequently  or 
continuously  they  have  been  experienced  by  us. 

But  we  have  just  seen  l  how  movements  of  solid  bodies 
constitute  the  most  constant  and  universal  of  all  our  experi- 
ences. What  wonder,  then,  that  a  sense  of  ease  and  pleasur- 
able relief  should  be  felt  whenever  difficult  and  puzzling 
phenomena  of  any  kind  can  be  presented  to  the  intellect  in 
terms  and  by  the  aid  of  mental  images  of  moving  solid 
bodies. 

It  should  also  be  recollected  that  few  things  are  more 
familiar  to  us  than  the  experience  that  objects  of  consider- 
able size  can  mostly  be  broken,  cut,  or  crushed  by  us  into 
smaller  portions,  and  these  again  similarly  further  sub- 
divided. It  is  a  most  common  experience  also  to  see  sub- 
stances crushed  into  very  small  particles  (sand,  dust,  or  what 
not) — particles  so  small  that  we  are  unable  to  subdivide  them 
any  further.  Hence  a  vague  feeling  can  be  produced  of  a 
distinctness  in  nature  between  large  bodies  that  we  can  sub- 
divide and  possessing  obvious  qualities,  and  minute  particles 
which  we  cannot  so  act  upon,  and  of  which  we  can  detect 
hardly  any  qualities — particles  only  just  within  the  range  of 
our  vision.  In  this  way  an  imagination  easily  and  spontane- 
ously arises  of  large  bodies  being  made  up  of  minute  solid 
particles  incapable  of  smaller  subdivision  which,  by  their 
union  and  coherence,  compose  such  bodies. 

1  See  ante,  p.  300. 


306  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

Through  a  combination  of  these  multitudinous  and  con- 
tinual experiences,  the  tendency  has  arisen  (probably  ages 
before  Democritus),  still  exists,  and  will,  most  likely,  ever 
exist,  to  try  to  represent  all  the  phenomena  of  the  world 
by  mental  images  of  particles  in  motion,  and  by  dances  of 
atoms. 

We  do  not,  of  course,  for  one  moment,  mean  to  underrate 
the  enormous  value  and  practical  utility  of  working  hypo- 
theses such  as  the  "  atomic  theory, "  the  "  undulatory  theory 
of  light,"  of  vibrating  ethereal  vortex  rings,  etc.,  etc.  Our 
only  intention  is  to  point  out  that  such  theories  are  to  be 
recognised  for  what  they  really  are,  and  not  regarded,  as  is 
too  frequently  the  case,  as  absolute  truths,  really  evident, 
explaining  satisfactorily  the  phenomena  of  nature,  and  con- 
stituting an  important  part  of  the  real  matter  of  science,  and 
as  truths  which  have  been  shown  to  be  finally  and  absolutely 
evident.  The  futility  of  such  explanations  may  easily  be 
seen  by  thinking  of  such  ultimate  atoms  as  magnified  to 
inches  in  diameter.  Then  all  the  difficulties  which  we  can 
feel  as  to  the  ultimate  composition  of  larger  bodies,  will  be 
found  to  be  no  less  existent  as  regards  the  molecules  and 
atoms  themselves. 

Leaving  now  the  subject  of  motion,  and  proceeding  to 
consider  the  truth  as  to  space  and  time,  we  again  meet  with 
the  deluding  consequences  of  uniform  sensuous  experience 
upon  the  imagination. 

Now  (as  we  said  when  speaking  of  the  supposed -necessary 
infinity  of  the  universe),  no  man,  anywhere  or  anywhen,  has 
ever  met  with  an  object  which  has  not  got  some  other  object 
beyond  it.  No  man,  also,  has  ever  found  anything  to  hap- 
pen without  finding  that  something  else  happened  after  it. 
It  results  from  this  constant  and  invariable  experience  that 
it  is  utterly  impossible  for  us  to  imagine  anything  to  exist 
without  something  beyond  it,  or  to  imagine  anything  to 


NATURE   OF  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE        307 

happen  without  something,  sooner  or  later,  happening  after 
it. 

Thus  it  is  that  men  who  have  not  emancipated  themselves 
from  the  chains  of  their  sense-perceptions,  declare,  as  we 
above  observed,  that  "  space  "  is,  and  must  be,  "  infinite." 
Mistaking  the  impotence  of  their  imagination  for  a  percep- 
tion of  objective  reality,  they  affirm  the  real,  and  even  in- 
finite, existence  of  what  has  no  real  being  at  all,  and  is 
nothing  in  reality  beyond  a  creation  of  the  mind. 

Space  is  but  an  abstraction  from  abstractions — a  doubly 
abstract  idea.  There  is,  of  course,  no  such  thing  even  as 
"  extension  "  as  such.  That  is  but  an  abstract  idea  gained 
from  a  perception  of  that  property  which  every  extended 
thing  possesses,  and  which  real  objective  property  is  the 
foundation  in  the  thing  itself  of  the  abstract  idea — exten- 
sion. Similarly,  "  space  is  an  abstract  idea  drawn  from 
the  different  extensions  of  all  the  extended  things  we  know, 
from  inter-sidereal  ether  to  the  densest  mass  of  metal.  It 
is,  as  we  said,  a  doubly  abstract  idea,  and  is  abstracted 
from,  and  denotes  the  extension  of,  all  extended  things 
taken  together,  and  united  in  one  highly  abstract  idea. 

'  Time  "  is,  similarly,  but  another  highly  abstract  idea 
gained  from  things  which  succeed  each  other,  and  which 
are  said  to  follow  each  other  "  in  succession."  But,  of 
course,  there  is  and  can  be  no  such  thing  as  "  succession  " 
by  itself.  Succession  is  but  a  term  expressing  our  idea  of  a 
real  condition  possessed  by  each  thing  which  happens  after 
another  which  occurred  before,  and  which  condition  is  the 
foundation  in  the  thing  itself  of  that  abstract  idea.  Simi- 
larly, "  time  "  is  a  doubly  abstract  idea,  since  it  is  drawn 
from  the  different  successions  of  all  the  succeeding  things 
we  know.  It  denotes  the  succession  of  all  succeeding  things 
taken  together  and  united  in  one  highly  abstract  idea. 

Of  course,  for  ordinary  scientific  work,  the  common  con- 


308  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

ceptions  as  to  space  and  time,  as  well  as  motion,  molar 
and  molecular,  ethereal  undulations,  etc.,  serve  every  need- 
ful purpose,  and  are  most  valuable,  just  as  the  commonly 
used  physical  hypotheses  as  to  atoms,  molecules,  etc.,  serve, 
as  before  said,  very  important  ends,  and  have  greatly  aided, 
as  they  no  doubt  will  continue  to  be  of  great  service 
to,  scientific  progress.  But  as  with  respect  to  these  hypo- 
theses, so  also  with  respect  to  space  and  time,  it  seems  to 
us  we  cannot  be  dispensed,  in  a  work  such  as  the  present 
one,  from  an  attempt  to  analyse  those  common  motions  as 
fully  as  it  is  within  our  power  to  do. 

The  physical  division  of  the  matter  of  science  may,  then, 
be  described  as  follows : 

It  consists  of  real,  substantial  things  in  themselves,  with 
all  their  qualities,  powers,  and  energies,  inorganic  and  or- 
ganic, vegetable,  animal,  including  rational  animals  (men) 
as  well  as  the  merely  sentient  portion  of  animal  life. 
Amongst  and  between  different  portions  of  this  physical 
division  of  the  matter  of  science,  we  have  recognised  various 
branches  of  continuity — various  new  departures.  Our  con- 
fidence in  the  accuracy  of  our  judgment  as  to  these  new  de- 
partures and  their  rationality,  as  well  as  their  possibility  in 
the  material  universe,  are  guaranteed  and  rendered  as  far  as 
possible  intelligible  to  us  by  our  recognition  that  the  uni- 
verse is  pervaded,  as  it  seems  to  have  been  and  to  be  caused, 
by  something  which  our  intellect  reveals  to  us  as  having 
necessarily  some  analogy  with  our  own  reason  and  intelli- 
gence, however  inconceivably  greater  it  may  be. 

The  second  division  of  the  matter  of  science  consists  of 
everything  psychical,  from  the  faintest  and  most  obscure 
feelings,  which  any  animated  being  can  experience,  to  the 
most  abstract  ideas  that  the  human  mind  can  possibly  form. 
These  feelings  and  ideas  are  not  regarded,  in  the  work  of 
science,  mainly  as  abstractions,  but  rather  as  concrete  reali- 


NATURE   OF  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE        309 

ties — feeljngs  as  being,  or  having  been,  actually  felt,  and 
ideas  as  being,  or  having  been,  actually  thought. 

The  matter  of  science  must  consist  of  these  two  divisions, 
which — to  speak  most  briefly — are  composed  of  things  and 
thoughts. 

For  all  idealists  must  regard,  and  do  regard,  the  groups  of 
psychical  modifications,  which  for  them  make  up  the  exter- 
nal world,  as  distinguishable  from  that  reflex  self-conscious- 
ness which  reflects  upon  its  own  mental  experiences,  and 
apprehends  knowledge  and  truth  as  knowledge  and  truth. 
It  is  unquestionable,  therefore,  that  things  and  thoughts 
constitute,  and  must  constitute,  the  matter  of  human  science 
in  its  widest  acceptation  of  that  term. 

Such,  then,  being  the  field  of  labour  wherein  all  pursuers  of 
science  have  to  work,  what  are  the  tools  which  are  absolutely 
necessary  for  them  that  they  may  accomplish  their  task  ? 

Now,  obviously,  the  simplest  and  earliest  used  of  these 
tools  are  our  various  organs  of  sense,  by  the  use  of  which 
alone  we  can  attain  to  sense-perceptions,  which  together 
form  the  indispensable  starting-point  of  all  our  knowledge, 
and  which  supply  us  with  materials  necessary  for  the  exer- 
cise of  the  imagination,  without  the  presence  of  which  all 
intellectual  activity  is  impossible. 

To  these,  of  course,  must  be  added  all  those  common — 
those  normal — intellectual  powers,  the  due  exercise  of  which 
constitutes  a  man  a  person  of  ordinary  sound  judgment  and 
good  sense. 

Amongst  and  bound  up  with  these  intellectual  facultiesr 
however,  are  certain  fundamental  principles  which  constitute 
our  intellectual  tools  par  excellence,  and  which  here  need 
distinct  recognition.  We  have  seen  in  our  fourth  chapter 
("  The  Methpds  of  Science  ")  how  utterly  impossible  it  is 
not  only  to  cultivate  science,  but  even  to  make  one  valid 
observation,  or  usefully  to  carry  on  the  simplest  experiment, 


310  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

without  the  tacit  assumption  of  certain  fundamental  princi- 
ples as  convictions  implicitly  accepted.  Such  convictions 
were :  the  existence  of  certainty  ' ;  the  existence  of  an  exter- 
nal world  a ;  our  continuous  substantial  existence  3 ;  the  valid- 
ity of  the  process  of  inference  4 ;  the  self-evidence  of  some 
truths6;  the  principle  of  contradiction6;  the  evidence  of 
axioms7;  the  principle  of  causation8;  the  uniformity  of 
nature";  and  the  existence  of  necessity  and  contingency.10 
After  what  has  been  said  in  Chapter  VIII.  about  these  first 
principles  of  .knowledge  of  which  our  highest  mental  powers 
take  cognisance,  we  think  that  we  need  not  occupy  much 
more  space  concerning  them  here,  but  only  give  once  more 
a  brief  summary  thereof. 

The  fundamental  truths,  the  intellectual  perceptions  and 
convictions  which  must  be  employed  for  the  cultivation  of 
science  may,  then,  be  thus  summarised : 

(1)  The  first  intellectual  tool  which  must  be  employed  is 
the  principle  which  affirms  that  certain  things  can  be  per- 
ceived with  certainty  and  are  evident. 

(2)  The  second  principle  is  that  nothing  can  both  exist 
and  not  exist  at  the  same  time,  and  this  principle  serves  to 
test  the  solidity  of  the  work  which  the  first  tool  enables  the 
scientific  labourer  to  perform. 

(3)  Thirdly   comes   the   perception  and    conviction  (for 
which  the  second  principle  vouches)  that  there  are  truths 
which  are  true,  not  only  here  and  now,  but  which  must  be 
true  ever  and  always,  and  that  such  truths  are  not  merely 
laws  or  conditions  of  our  own  mind,  but  are  true  objectively, 
being  applicable  to  and  valid  for  all  "  things  in  themselves  " 
apart  from  the  existence  of  any  imaginable  mind. 

1  See  ante,  p.  98.  6  See  ante,  p.  103.  9  See  ante,  p.  106. 

8  See  ante,  p.  101.  •  See  ante,  p.  105.  10  See  ante,  p.  106. 

3  See  ante,  p.  101.  7  See  ante,  p.  105. 

4  See  ante,  p.  102.  8  See  ante,  p.  105. 


NATURE   OF  THE   GROUNDWORK   OF  SCIENCE       311 

(4)  Thus  it  is  clear  that  there  are  objective  relations,  cor- 
responding with  subjective  ones. 

(5)  The   perception   and   conviction    that    not    only  our 
actions,  sensations,  imaginations,  reminiscences,  emotions, 
perceptions,  and  conceptions,  are  known  to  us,  but  also  our 
own  substantial  and  continuous  personal  existence. 

(6)  The  perception  and  conviction  that  we  have  the  faculty 
of  knowing  not  only  present  external  existences  but  what  is 
external  to  our  present  experience,  memory  showing  us  such 
experience  and  enabling  us  to  recognise  it  as  such,  so  that 
in  each  of  us  subject  and  object  become  identified. 

(7)  We  must  also  make  use  of  the  principle  which  upholds 
and  supports  the  process  of  inference  or  reasoning,  namely, 
the  perception  that  if  certain  premisses  be  true,  then  what- 
ever logically  follows  from  them  must  be  true  likewise. 

(8)  Finally,   there  is  the   principle   of  causation,    which 
assures  us  that  every  new  existence,  state,  or  condition,  and 
every  existence  which  does  not  contain  the  principle  of  its 
being  within  itself,  demands  a  cause  for  its  existence. 

It  is  these  fundamental  truths  which  constitute  the  intel- 
lectual instruments,  by  the  use  of  which  all  science  that  now 
exists  has  been  elaborated,  and  which  must  be  employed  to 
develop  whatever  scientific  truths  shall  hereafter  come  to 
be  ascertained  or  established. 

The  self-evident,  fundamental,  and  ultimate  truths  which 
guarantee  and  support  all  our  knowledge,  are  not  ideas 
which  are  innate,  but  the  faculty  of  apprehending  them  is 
innate.  They  are  ideas  which  our  reason  has  the  power  of 
extracting  and  of  perceiving  the  self-evidence  of,  just  as  the 
faculties  of  a  mere  animal  enable  it  to  become  aware  of  suit- 
able food  through  its  organs  of  sense  when  it  meets  with 
such,  as  the  roots  of  a  plant  enable  it  to  absorb  water  by 
growing  towards  damp  earth  in  its  vicinity,  and  as  the 
nature  of  a  crystal  enables  it  to  refract  doubly  when  the  re- 


312  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

quisite  means  (certain  rays  of  light)  are  brought  to  bear  upon 
it  in  a  suitable  manner. 

All  the  phenomena  of  nature  are  alike  wonderful,  and 
amongst  its  wonders  is  to  be  ranged  our  faculty  of  evolving, 
by  abstraction,  perceptions  of  objective,  necessary,  and 
self-evident  truths  as  objective,  necessary,  and  self-evident, 
when  the  requisite  means  (careful  attention,  i.  e.,  certain 
beams  of  intellectual  light)  are  brought  to  bear  upon  it. 

As  to  the  eight  perceptions  and  convictions  above  enumer- 
ated, unless  we  really  know  and  trust  them,  science  is  logic- 
ally impossible.  Without  them  (as  we  have  seen  in  Chapter 
IV.)  it  is  impossible  to  have  a  complete,  harmonious,  and 
stable  system  of  knowledge.  If  these  truths  were  denied, 
or  even  really  doubted,  by  anyone,  he  would  necessarily  be 
reduced  to  a  state  of  mental  paralysis  and  intellectual  inani- 
tion. His  intellect,  deprived  of  their  aid,  would,  indeed, 
not  only  be  paralysed  so  that  it  could  no  further  advance, 
but  it  would  be  entirely  disintegrated — like  a  world  in  which 
the  force  of  gravity  had  been  suddenly  annihilated.  But 
because  we  must  (to  be  rational)  recognise  the  self-evidence 
and  absolute  certainty  of  the  fundamental  principles  of  all 
human  knowledge,  we  must  always  be  extremely  careful  to 
be  guilty  of  no  exaggeration  as  to  the  amount  of  that  know- 
ledge, but  to  keep  an  open  mind  as  to  possibilities  concern- 
ing which  we  have  no  evidence.  However  improbable  any 
such  possibilities  may  be,  we  must  be  scrupulous  in  not 
representing  any  improbability,  however  great  it  may  be,  as 
an  impossibility. 

Thus  as  to  the  structure,  composition,  or  nature  of  the 
universe,  very  divergent  conditions  are  by  no  means  evi- 
dently impossible.  It  is,  of  course,  evident  that  there  is  an 
intelligent  energy  in  the  universe,  because  we  are  conscious 
of  what  exists  in  ourselves — our  own  self-conscious  intelli- 
gence. But  it  is  not  impossible  (though  so  improbable  that 


NATURE   OF  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE       313 

the  mere  possibility  seems  hardly  worth  mentioning)  that  be- 
sides intelligent  energy,  there  may  be  nothing  but  one 
essential  kind  of  matter  with  intrinsic  motion,  animals 
having  merely  the  appearance  of  being  sensitive  organisms, 
while  in  truth  literally  nothing  more  than  mere  machines. 
The  possibility  of  this  cannot  be  denied  for  two  reasons: 

(1)  We  can  only  know  our  own  sensations  and  emotions 
through  the  intellect,  so  that  we  cannot  be  absolutely  sure 
that  our  higher  estimate  of  animals  (as  being  really  sensitive 
organisms)  may  not  be  due  to  the  fact  that  we  know  them 
only  intellectually,    and  so   may  unconsciously  transfigure 
them. 

(2)  We  cannot  know  with  certainty  what  the  emotions 
and  sensations  of  animals  really  are.     They  are  probably 
like  what  our  sensations  and  emotions  might  be  apart  from 
the  intellect.     But  it  can  never  be  absolutely  evident  to  us 
that  they  are  so,  or  what  they  are  in  themselves,  or  even 
what  our  own  sensations  and  emotions  may  be,  apart  from 
our  intellect,  though,    as  we  have  endeavoured   to  show,1 
our  intellect  enables  us  to  obtain  a  high  degree  of  probabil- 
ity in  the  matter. 

Secondly,  it  is  not  evident  that  the  universe  may  not  con- 
sist of  one  kind  of  matter  (the  parent  of  all  the  combinations 
we  know),  and  one  physical  energy  (the  root  of  the  physical 
energies  of  our  experience),  together  with  an  intelligent 
energy. 

Thirdly,  it  may  consist  of  one  matter  and  several  or  many 
energies,  essentially  distinct  from  all  eternity,  together  with 
intelligent  energy. 

Fourthly,  it  is  not  evident  that  it  may  not  be  composed 
of  several,  or  many,  essentially  distinct  matters  (true  ele- 
ments) with  a  physical  energy  essentially  one,  together  with 
intelligent  energy. 

1  See  ante,  p.  214. 


314  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

Fifthly,  it  may  consist  of  several  or  a  multitude  of  distinct 
elements,  together  with  several  or  a  multitude  of  essentially 
distinct  energies,  and  also  intelligent  energy. 

But  it  cannot  consist  of  only  one  kind  of  energy,  even  if 
that  energy  were  mind,  because  we  have  an  intuition  of 
something  extended,  and  of  three  dimensions  upon  which 
intuition  all  mathematics  repose. 

As  to  the  intelligent  energy  of  the  universe,  apart  from 
that  of  its  absolute  cause,  it  is  conceivable  there  may  be 
none  but  what  is  human;  but  it  is  also  conceivable  that 
there  may  be  several  kinds,  or  an  unimaginable  multitude 
of  kinds  of  intellectual  energy,  all  essentially  different  from 
that  of  man. 

But  what,  in  our  opinion,  is  evidently  impossible  is  the 
evolution  of  intellect  from  mere  physical  force,  above  all, 
the  origin  therefrom  of  our  ethical  intuitions  and  our  con- 
victions as  to  necessities  and  possibilities. 

But  for  the  two  reasons  given  above  it  cannot  be  declared 
absolutely  impossible,  improbable  as  it  seems  to  us  to  be, 
that  life  and  mere  sensitivity  should  have  been  evolved 
from  some  energy  underlying  what  we  know  as  the  physical 
forces. 

Nor,  as  we  before  pointed  out,1  is  it  impossible  that  the 
human  intellect  may  have  been  evolved  from  the  psychical 
power  of  animals  if  their  psychical  powers  be  essentially  and 
potentially  intelligent.  It  is  possible  that  intelligent  energy 
may  be  latent  in  animals  and  only  able  actually  to  manifest 
itself  in  a  manner  far  below  its  intrinsic  power,  and,  on  ac- 
count of  all  the  conditions  present  to  it,  which  render  it 
unable  to  emerge  in  thought,  into  which  it  would  emerge  if 
a  suitable  environment  were  provided.  But,  certainly,  ani- 
mals, so  far  as  we  have  been  able  to  obtain  evidence,  show 
no  signs  of  possessing  such  a  latent  intellectuality,  while 

1  See  ante,  p.  154. 


NATURE   OF  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE        315 

they  often  show  what,  did  they  possess  it,  would  be  a  per- 
fectly amazing  degree  of  stupidity. 

In  pursuing  our  quest  of  the  groundwork  of  science,  if 
anything  is  certain/  it  is  that  the  portion  of  truth  which  we 
are  able  to  attain  to  in  our  investigations  of  the  cosmos  is 
but  an  unimaginably  small  portion  of  the  whole. 

There  are  two  facts  which  the  man  of  science  ought  to 
have  frequently  and  clearly  before  his  mind.  The  first  is 
the  practical  infinitude  of  knowledge,  as  yet  unattained  by 
him,  and,  probably,  beyond  all  human  ken.  The  second 
fact,  and  one  no  less  important,  is  the  absolute  certainty  of 
that  small  portion  of  knowledge  which  his  intellect  is  able 
to  attain  to  and  recognise  as  being  self-evident,  and  evi- 
dently of  universal  and  necessary  validity.  Because  the 
matter  for  exploration  is  indefinitely  vast  and  but  partially 
attainable,  we  have  no  reason  to  distrust  our  knowledge  of 
what  we  do  perceive  to  be  certain,  or  to  undervalue  the 
means  at  our  disposal  for  obtaining  such  scientific  knowledge 
and  certainty.  The  means  here  referred  to  consist  of  first 
principles  which  have  in  these  pages  been  drawn  out  and 
enumerated- — the  tools  of  which  the  labourers  in  the  field 
of  science  are  compelled  to  make  use,  and  which  they  should 
rejoice  exceedingly  in  the  possession  of.  It  now  only 
remains  to  notice  some  facts  and  make  a  few  remarks  con- 
cerning the  nature  of  the  scientific  labourers  themselves. 

Uneducated  men  are  often  confident  of  their  knowledge 
in  proportion  to  their  ignorance,  while  the  modesty  of  the 
cultured  is  generally  not  less  noteworthy.  But  whatever 
diffidence  ordinary  persons  may  feel  with  respect  to  de- 
ficiencies in  their  own  knowledge  of  unfamiliar  facts,  or  of 
matters  of  science,  they  are  generally  confident  enough  that 
they  have  a  sufficient  acquaintance  with  their  own  nature 
and  those  mental  faculties  which  common  sense  assures 
them  they  daily  exercise.  They  may,  indeed,  be  aware 


316  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

that  it  is  possible  for  interest  to  induce  some  of  their  neigh- 
bours not  only  to  say,  but  even  to  think,  that  "  there  is 
nothing  like  leather, "  and  they  may  recognise  the  fact  that 
an  habitual  employment  of  the  mind  and  energies  in  one 
special  pursuit  can  prevent  men  from  being  able  readily  to 
apply  themselves  to  another  of  a  very  different  kind.  Never- 
theless, as  a  rule,  they  have  no  proximately  correct  appre- 
ciation either  of  the  wonderfully  lofty  nature  of  their  mental 
powers  or  of  the  warping  and  narrowing  effect  of  prejudice 
in  hampering  their  exercise.  As  the  late  Cardinal  Newman 
truly  observed  many  years  ago : 

"  Any  one  study,  of  whatever  kind,  exclusively  pursued,  dead- 
ens in  the  mind  the  interest,  nay  the  perception,  of  any  others. 
Thus  Cicero  says  that  Plato  and  Demosthenes,  Aristotle  and 
Isocrates  might  have  respectively  excelled  in  each  other's  prov- 
ince, but  that  each  was  absorbed  in  his  own.  Specimens  of  this 
peculiarity  occur  every  day.  You  can  hardly  persuade  some 
men  to  talk  about  anything  but  their  own  pursuit ;  they  refer 
the  whole  world  to  their  own  centre,  and  measure  all  matters  by 
their  own  rule,  like  the  fisherman  in  the  drama,  whose  eulogy  on 
his  deceased  lord  was,  that  '  he  was  so  fond  of  fish/  " 

This  tendency  to  mental  one-sidedness,  arising  from  the 
almost  exclusive  study  of  one  side  of  nature,  has',  as  ex- 
perience convinces  us,  made  not  a  few  able  men,  exclusively 
devoted  to  the  study  of  one  or  more  physical  sciences,  less 
able,  than  would  have  been  the  case  had  their  culture  been 
wider,  to  appreciate  and  assign  full  weight  to  the  facts  of 
mental  and,  above  all,  of  metaphysical  science.  The  one 
great  requisite  for  the  study  and  correct  estimate  of  the 
nature  of  things  external  to  ourselves,  is  true  and  accurate 
knowledge  of  our  own.  It  is  necessary  for  us  to  recognise 
that  we  are  not  only  conscious  but  conscious  of  our  con- 
sciousness; that  we  not  only  can  make  use  of  and  be  guided 


NATURE   OF  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE        317 

by  inference,  but  that  we  are  capable  of  analysing  the  pro- 
cess of  inference,  and  that  we  can  not  only  act  well  or  ill, 
but  can  recognise  an  ethical  ideal.  We  require  to  recognise 
distinctly  what  our  intellect  can  and  does  do,  in  order  that 
we  may  assign  his  due  part  in  the  groundwork  of  science  to 
the  worker  himself. 

Now,  reflex  self-consciousness  shows  us  that  the  "  self  " 
exists  continuously,  and  is  conscious  of  successive  objects 
and  events,  and  can  and  does  recognise  them  as  forming 
part  of  a  series  which  it  transcends,  but  which  it  can  con- 
template as  a  whole  or  in  parts  and  in  different  orders,  ac- 
cording as  may  be  desired.  This  power  or  principle  it  also 
knows  with  perfect  certainty  can  not  only  know  itself,  but 
is  also  aware  of  the  kinds  and  directions  of  its  activities,  and 
can  regard  them  as  a  whole,  or  in  groups,  or  singly.  It  can, 
it  well  knows,  perceive  its  own  states,  both  passive  and 
active,  and  also  external  objects  and  events,  and  can  com- 
pare the  relations  between  them,  returning  upon  itself  at 
will  along  different  lines  of  thought,  and  also  setting  forth 
in  various  directions  at  will.  Such  a  power,  aware  of  all 
these  things  and  present  to  them  all,  must  itself  be  our 
very  ideal  of  unity,  and  stand  in  the  greatest  possible  con- 
trast to  the  material  world  it  is  able  directly  and  immediately 
to  apprehend  and  make  present  to  it.  Yet,  since  each  man 
who  reflects  can  know  that  it  is  he  who  not  only  thinks  but 
also  feels,  he  must  recognise  his  living  body  and  his  think- 
ing principle  as  constituting,  to  his  experience,  one  unity. 
He  perceives  himself  as  knowing  and  recognising  the  exter- 
nal world  as  independent  of  and  yet  known  to  him.  He 
thus  knows  that  in  his  consciousness  the  external  and  the 
internal  meet  and  blend,  and  that  in  himself  subject  and 
object  are,  as  before  said,  identified.  This  is  a  supreme 
truth  of  science,  and  no  certainty  we  can  attain  to  about 
any  other  object  is,  or  can  be,  so  certain  as  is  this  truth. 


318  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

Thus  we  come  to  know  how  it  is,  and  how  alone  it  is, 
possible  for  the  scientific  worker  ably  and  with  good  effect 
to  wield  the  wonderful  intellectual  tools  he  is  supplied  with 
for  labouring  in  that  field  which  constitutes  the  matter  of 
science. 

The  labourer  thus  being  replete  with  conscious  reason  and 
labouring  with  tools  which,  the  more  skilfully  he  uses  them, 
afford  him  ever  better  grounds  for  confiding  in  his  reason, 
which  he  also  recognises  as  the  basis  of  all  his  conclusions 
and  convictions,  can  it  likewise  be  said  that  reason  is  latent 
and  implied  also  in  the  very  matter  of  science  ? 

If  the  reader  will  recall  to  mind  and  weigh  with  care  the 
facts  and  considerations  which  have  been  again  and  again 
brought  forward  in  this  book,  he  will,  we  venture  to  think, 
be  convinced  that  there  is  much  to  be  said  in  support  of 
such  a  latent  intelligence. 

Let  him  recollect  the  phenomena  of  crystallisation  and 
how  a  crystal's  broken  angle  can  be  and  will  be,  the  needful 
conditions  being  supplied,  accurately  replaced.  Let  him 
remember  how  different  chemical  substances  possess  their 
own  special — and  in  different  mineral  species  very  different 
— innate  laws,  and  also  the  inherent  tendencies  of  chemical 
substances  to  combine  in  definite  proportions.  Let  him 
note  well  the  marvellous  processes  of  individual  development 
from  the  earliest  condition  of  the  germ  upwards,  and  also 
consider  how  during  the  whole  life  of  each  it  bears  a  relation 
both  to  the  past  and  the  future,  as  does  the  chrysalis  both 
to  the  larval  and  the  imago  state  of  its  existence. 

Moreover,  if  the  repair  of  a  crystal  is  wonderful,  how 
much  more  so  those  which  take  place  in  animal  and  even  in 
human  '  life.  How  wonderful  is  the  transition  a  from  vital 
activities  which  are  utterly  unconscious  to  actions  which 
are  present  to  consentience  and  ultimately  can  be  recognised 

1  See  ante,  pp.  124,  125.  *  See  ante,  p.  136. 


NATURE   OF  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE        319 

by  reflex  consciousness.  Yet,  perhaps,  above  all  other 
wonders  is  the  wonder  of  instinct,  the  significance  of  which 
Schelling  so  truly  appreciated. 

There  is,  indeed,  a  latent  logic  in  the  actions  of  the  beast 
which  hunts  its  prey;  in  the  nesting  bird;  the  bee,  the  ant, 
the  climbing  plant — with  its  marvellous  tendrils — and  even 
in  the  mathematical  regularities  of  crystallisation  !  But  such 
logic  is  not  the  logic  of  the  crystal,  nor  of  the  plant,  nor  of 
the  bird,  nor  of  the  beast.  It  is,  in  a  sense,  truly  in  them, 
but  it  is  no  less  certainly  not  of  them,  nor  is  it  merely  even 
of  ourselves.  Mankind  did  not  always  inhabit  this  planet, 
and  when  the  first  animals  possessed  of  self-consciousness 
and  rationality  first  appeared  here,  they  were  not  and  could 
not  have  been  the  causes  of  their  own  advent,  but,  as  new 
existences,  must  have  been  effects  of  a  greater  cause. 

He  who  with  an  unprejudiced  mind  ponders  over  the 
phenomena  which  the  universe  lays  open  to  his  gaze  can 
hardly,  we  think,  fail  to  discover  immanent  therein  an 
activity  the  results  of  which  harmonise  with  man's  reason: 
an  activity  which  is  orderly  and  disaccords  with  blind 
chance,  or  "  a  fortuitous  concourse  of  atoms,"  but  which, 
nevertheless,  is  not  an  intelligent  activity  such  as  is  our 
own,  but  one  which  acts  in  modes  which  are  different  from 
those  we  should  adopt  in  order  to  attain  similar  ends.  It  is 
sometimes  objected  against  reason  as  latent  in  nature,  that 
we  see  in  all  directions  so  much  waste,  and  that  of  so  great 
a  multitude  of  organic  germs,  very  few  attain  maturity. 
But  this  objection  is  indeed  an  anthropomorphic  one,  and 
would  imply  that  the  cause  of  all  things  is  a  contriving 
human  mind !  But  the  non-human  rationality  of  which 
nature  affords  so  many  hints  and  glimpses  as  everywhere 
pervading  it,  is  a  universal  cause  and  reason,  and,  if  we  may 
speak  of  "  purpose  "  in  this  connection,  its  purpose  is  ful- 
filled by  every  event,  and  thus  no  waste  is  possible.  Every 


320  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE 

seemingly  "  wasted  "  germ  fulfils  other  purposes  of  nature, 
as  the  spores  of  our  ancient  coal-fields  now  help  the  man  of 
science  to  cross  oceans  in  quest  of  fresh  material  for  study. 

But  though  the  reason  which  pervades  nature  is  not  that 
of  a  human  intellect,  yet  the  fact  that  it  has  a  certain,  how- 
ever remote,  analogy  therewith  is  shown  us  by  our  own 
minds.  For  to  it,  as  a  cause,  we  must  ascribe  our  power  of 
knowing  first  principles  and  ethical  laws  '  and  of  recognising 
fundamental  truths  as  being  what  they  are.  To  it  must  be 
due  that  marvellous  light  shed  upon  our  intelligence  which 
enables  us  to  know  that  such  truths  are  absolute,  universal, 
and  necessary,  objectively  as  well  as  subjectively. 

Thus  our  answer  to  the  question,  "  What  is  the  ground- 
work of  science  ?  "  may  be  thus  expressed:  It  is  the  work 
of  self-conscious,  material  organisms,  making  use  of  the 
marvellous  intellectual  first  principles  which  they  possess  in 
exploring  all  the  physical  and  psychical  phenomena  of  the 
universe,  which  sense,  intuition,  and  ratiocination  can  any- 
how reveal  to  them  as  real  existences  whether  actual  or  only 
possible.  Such  being  the  groundwork  of  science,  what  may, 
nay,  what  must,  be  said  to  be  its  foundation — what  the 
support  and  guarantee  alike  of  the  workers,  the  principles, 
and  the  objects  of  science  ? 

It  appears  to  us  impossible  rationally  to  deny  that  such  a 
foundation  can  only  be  sought  in  that  reason  which  evidently, 
to  us,  pervades  the  universe,  and  is  that  by  which  our  intel- 
lect has  been  both  produced  and  illumined. 

We  must  admit  that  the  principle  of  causation  and  the 
uniformity  of  nature  are  truths  which  our  minds  apprehend 
from  sources  which  are  mainly  not  sensuous  but  intellectual. 
These  principles,  when  we  apply  them  to  the  world  of  ex- 
perience, reveal  an  orderly  universe.  By  them  we  are 
forced  to  read  an  order  and  a  reason  into  the  profoundest 

1  See  ante,  p.  170. 


NATURE   OF  THE   GROUNDWORK  OF  SCIENCE       $21 

depths  of  the  essence  and  being  of  the  universe,  nor  can  we 
forget  that  in  those  depths  there  must  repose  the  ultimate 
cause  of  all  that  we  recognise  as  beautiful  and  good,  as  well 
as  true. 

In  concluding,  we  feel  bound  to  confess  that  the  more  we 
study  nature  the  more  profoundly  convinced  do  we  become 
that  the  action  of  an  all-pervading  but  unimaginable  in- 
telligence alone  affords  us  any  satisfactory  conception  of  the 
universe,  as  a  whole,  or  of  any  single  portion  of  the  cosmos 
which  may  be  selected  for  exclusive  study. 

Unless  we  are  profoundly  mistaken,  it  is  only  through  the 
conception  of  such  an  energy,  as  an  active  causative  principle, 
underlying  and  pervading  the  material  cosmos,  together  with 
the  recognition  of  the  dignity  of  human  reason,  empowered 
as  it  is  to  perceive  self-evident,  universal,  and  objective 
truths,  that  we  can  understand  the  groundwork  of  science 
and  attain  to  a  final  and  satisfactory  Epistemology. 


INDEX 


Absolute  existence,  230 
Abstract  ideas,  7 

Absurdity  of  Herbert  Spencer's  start- 
ing point,  278 

—  of  scepticism,  219 
Act  of  sight,  10 

All  knowledge  wonderful,  56,  245 
Analogy  of  human  and  divine  reason, 

320 

Analysis  of  a  sentence,  187 
Anatomy,  24 
Animal  intelligence,  156-161 

—  kingdom,  no 

—  stupidity,  168 
Animals,  groups  of,  in 
Animals'  latent  logic,  319 

Animals  possibly  latently  intellectual, 

154 

Anthropology,  32 

Ants,  190 

Appearance  and  reality,  75 

Application  of  ethics  may  vary,  166 

Arguments  as  to  external  world,  47-53 

Associated  feelings,  145 

—  feelings  cause  uncertainty,  245 
Astronomy,  24 

Atomic  theory,  306 

Atoms,  304 

Attention   impairs   automatic    action, 

144 

Attractions  of  idealism,  43 
Automatic  actions,  143,  151 
Axiom  of  equality,  247 
Axioms,  105 

Balfour,  Mr.  Arthur,  83 

Being,  23 

Belt,  Mr.,  and  ants,  190 


Berkeley,  39 

Bifold  unity  of  man,  317 

Bilateral  symmetry,  285 

Blind  disbelief  fatal,  98 

Bodies  consist  of  matter  and  energy, 

302 

Bodily  injuries,  effects  of,  70 
Botany,  24 

Bradley,  Dr.  F.  H.,  76-78,  80 
Breaches  of  continuity,  214 

—  of  continuity  in  the  cosmos,  294 
Bridge  between    subject   and   object, 

237 

Carpenter  and  instinct,  183 

Causal  principle  of  universe  rational, 

293 
Causation,  256 

—  and  uniformity  of  nature,  262 

—  and  the  universe,  289 

—  may  be  felt,  260 

—  principle  of,  105 

Cause,  a,  demanded   for  new  or  de- 
pendent being,  256,  258 

—  and  force,  258 

—  of  universe  judged  by  its  effects, 

292 

Causes  of  scientific  knowledge,  255 
Certainties,  240-254 
Certainty,  grounded  in  self-evidence, 

57,  221 

—  of  existing  feelings,  217 

—  of  our  existence,  101 

—  of  some  knowledge,  315 
Chasms  in  nature,  287 
Chimpanzee  named  Sally,  174 
Cicero  and  ethic,  167 
Classification  of  sciences,  16,  17 


323 


324 


INDEX 


Clifford,  Professor,  247 
Cognition,  direct  and  reflex,  229 

—  its  elements,  9 
Colour,  idea  of,  n,  65 
Condillac  and  instinct,  179 
Confidence  in  reason  warranted,  318 
Consentience,  147    ' 
Conscience,  163 
Consciousness,  137,  227 

—  its  trustworthiness,  218 

—  of  self,  317 

Corporeal   substance    and    extension, 

77,  78 

Cosmology,  23 
Cosmos  has  latent  intelligence,  294, 

295 

—  pervaded  by  intelligence,  321 
Counting  crow,  173 
Credulity  of  sensists,  74 

Criterion   of  truth,  the  ultimate,   13, 

14,  221-223,  225 
Crystals,  282,  318 
Cuvier,  51 

Darwin  and  instinct,  180 
Deaf-mutes,  196-200 
Definiteness  of  all  that  exists,  278 
Delusion  as  to  motion,  306 
Delusions,  tactual  and  optical,  70 
Democritus,  306 

Dependent  being  needs  a  cause,  258 
Difference  between  ideas  and  feelings, 

II,  12 

Dionaea  and  intelligence,  159 
Direct  and  reflex  cognition,  229 
Direct  consciousness,  138 
Distinction  of  kind,  213 

Effects  of  bodily  injuries,  69 
Ego,  empirical,  232 

—  pure,  232 
Elements  of  cognition,  9 
Emotional  language,  170 

—  signs,  1 50 
Emperor  moth,  129 

Empirical  laws  and  judgments,  8,  94 
Energy,  298 

Enumeration  of  the  sciences,  16 
Epistemology,  2 

—  and  levelling  down,  276 

—  derivation,  v 

Error  and  incomplete  knowledge,  73 
Esse  and  per  dpi,  35,  74 


Eternal  causal  principle,  29! 

Ethic  and  results,  163,  164 

Ethics,  25,  32 

Ethnology,  32 

Everything   which   exists  is   definite, 

278 

Excluded  middle,  242 
Existence  implies  state  of  existence, 

231 
Extension,  idea  of,  67 

—  our  intuition  of,  46 
External  world,  its  nature,  46 

—  self-evidence  of,  46,  224 

Faculties,  not  ideas,  innate,  311 
Fallacy  as  to  memory,  235 

—  of  Clifford  and  Helmholtz,  247 
Feeling  and  reflection,  12 
Feelings,  associations  of,  145 

—  present  ones,  certain,  217 

—  underlying  perceptions,  147-150 
Fichte,  40,  41,^3 

Field  of  scientific  labour,  309 

First   principles   not   gained   through 

natural  selection,  272 
Forbes,  Mr.,  192 
Force  and  cause,  258 

—  idea  of,  67 

—  or  power  and  primary  idea,  259 
Forms  of  thought,  246 

Fortunate  character  of  Darwin's  con- 
ception, 269 

Functions  of  man's  body,  116-127 
Fundamental  assumptions  of  science, 
106 

Geology,  24 

Gesture  language,  195-202 
Goodness,  and  distinct  idea,  162,  166 
Groundwork  of   science :    its   nature, 
296 

—  ultimate,  of  science,  321 

Habit,  125 

Haeckel,  Professor,  304 
Hartmann,  41 
Hegel,  41 

—  and  the  swimmer,  254 
Helmholtz,  247 
Hexicology,  31 

Higher  and  lower  mental  powers    142 

History,  32 

Hoste,  Sir  William,  193 


INDEX 


325 


How  is  knowledge  possible?  57,  76 

—  was  knowledge  obtained  ?  264 
Human  and  cosmic  reason  analogous, 

320 
Hume,  41,  83 

—  and  causation,  256 

—  followers  of,  227 
Hypothetical  truths  notknown  through 

natural  selection,  272 

I  am,  significance  of,  239 
Idea  of  cause,  258 
— •  of  colour,  II,  65 

—  of  extension,  67 
— :  of  force,  67 

—  of  nonentity,  II 

—  of  power  or  force,  259 
Idealism,  35-39,  41-43 

—  its  attractions,  43 
Ideas,  abstract,  7 

—  and  feelings,  differences  between, 

ii,  12,  65,  80 
"  Ideas"  of  animals,  158 
Implicit  truth  made  explicit  by  infer- 
ence, 250 

Impressions  and  sense  impresses,  238 
Incomplete  knowledge  not  error,  73 
Indefinite,  the,  an  improbable  source 

of  things,  277 
Inference  and  perception,  62,  63 

—  makes  implicit  truth  explicit,  250 
Infinitude  of  knowledge,  315 
Initiation  of  knowledge,  4 
Inorganic  world  and  innate  law,  281- 

285  _ 
Instinct,  in  animals,  127-131,  179-184 

—  in  man,  126 

—  its  essence,  131,  133 

—  reflex  action  of  a  whole  organism, 

182 
Intellect  possibly  latent   in   animals, 

154 
Intellectual    antecedents    of    science, 

.  2I?. 

—  intuition,  14,  104 

—  language,  187 

Intelligence  latent  in  the  cosmos,  295 

—  pervades  cosmos,  321 
Intention  at  the  basis  of  ethics,  165 
Intuition,  14,  104 

—  of  extension,  46 
Ireland,  Dr.  W.,  2IO 
Iridescence,  69 


Is,  significance  of  the  word,  207 

Johnson,  Captain,  192 

Johnson,  Dr.,  81 

John  Stuart  Mill  and  ethic,  164 

—  and  truth,  99 

Joint  method  of  agreement  and  differ- 
ence, 94,  96 

Kalmuck  and  Persian  ladies,  284 
Kant,  41 

Kind,  distinctions  of ,  214 
Knowledge,  all  wonderful,  56,  245 

—  how  obtained,  264 

—  its  certainty,  315 

—  its  initiation,  4 

—  not  due  to  association,  265 

—  not  due  to  natural  selection,  267 

—  not  due  to  revelation,  266 

—  not  innate,  265 

—  of  our  feelings  reflex,  228-230 

—  practically  infinite,  315 

Lamarck  and  instinct,  179 
Language,  intellectual,  187 

—  and  science,  186 

—  of  savages,  205,  206 

—  unintellectual,  186 
Lapsed  intelligence,  180 
Larden,  Mr.,  and  ants,  191 
Latent  ideas,  etc.,  97 

—  logic  in  animals,  319 
Laura  Bridgman,  200 
Legitimacy  of  certainty,  97 
Levelling  down  and  epistemology,  277 
Leverrier,  50 

Literature,  politics,  and  instinct,  182 

Lloyd  Morgan,  154,  160 

Locke,  41 

Logic,  21,  32 

Lord's  Prayer  in  gesture,  199 

Mallery,  Colonel,  195,  199 
Man's  body,  functions  of,  116-127 

—  body,  structure  of,  1 11-116 

—  duplex  unity,  317 

—  zoological  position,  in 
Martha  Obrecht,  200 
Material  and  repair,  134 
Mathematics,  18,  20,  26 
Matter,  302 

—  of  science,  308 

Means  and  objects  of  perception,  41 , 61 


326 


INDEX 


Memory,  100,  145 

—  its  validity,  233 

—  reveals  the  objective,  237 
Mental  onesidedness,  316 

—  powers,  the  orders  of,  142 
Metaphor,  203,  204 
Metaphysics,  22,  23,  32,  87 
Method  of  agreement,  94,  96 

—  of  concomitant  variations,  95 

—  of  difference,  94 

—  of  residues,  95 
Methods  of  science,  89 
Mind  can  know  truths,  75 
Molecular  motion,  304 
Monism,  83 

—  the  truths  latent  in  it,  303 
Monkeys,  192-194 
Monosyllabic  utterances,  202 
Montaigne  and  instinct,  179 

More  than  phenomena  knowable,  238 
Most  certain  truths  of  science,  317 
Motion,  298-300 

—  a  constant  experience,  305 

—  perception  of,  71 

Natural  selection  almost  incapable  of 
disproof,  269 

—  selection  and  evolution  of  intellect, 

274 

—  selection  and  instinct,  182 

—  selection  and  realism,  46 

—  selection  and  the  universe,  29  r 

—  selection  could  never  have  shown 

us  hypothetical  truths,  272 

—  selection  did  not  reveal  necessary 

truths,  272 
Nature  of  the  external  world,  47,  55 

—  of  the  groundwork  of  science,  296 
Nature's  ultimate  teaching,  319 
Neptune,  51,  52 

New  existence  demands  a  cause,  256 

Newman,  Cardinal,  316 

Nihilum,  23 

Not  everything  must  have  a  cause,  255 

Nothing,  idea  of,  n 

No  waste  in  nature,  319 

Number,  j8,  19,  175 

Objections  against  realism,  63 
Objective  and  subjective  worlds,  236 

—  relations,  54 

—  truths  perceived,  246 


Objects  and  means  of  perception,  41, 

61 

—  of  science,  34 
Omniscience  and  human  knowledge, 

279 

Ontogeny,  31 
Organic  inference,  160 
Origin  from  the  indefinite  absurd,  277 
Owen,  Sir  Richard,  51 

Pasteur,  M.  226 

Perceptions,  3,  41,  63 

Perception  of  existence,  242 

Phantasmata,  9 

Phylogeny,  31 

Physical  antecedents  of  science,  108 

—  sciences,  24-32 
Physiology,  24,  25 
Pigs  and  prayers,  172 
Plants  do  not  feel,  287 
Politics,  32 

Possibilities  as  to  the  nature  of  the 

universe,  312-314 
Possible  latency  of  intellect  in  animals, 

154,  274,  314 

Present  feelings  certain,  217 
Primary  and  secondary  qualities,  64, 

69,  72 
Principle  of  causation,  105 

—  of  contradiction,  105,  242,  243 

—  of  the  universe,  291,  292 
Process  of  reasoning,  102,  252,  253 
Processes  of  repair,  125 
Prodigal  son  in  gesture,  198 

Proof  impossible  for  ultimate  certain- 
ties, 221 
Psychical  antecedents  of  science,  137 

—  powers  of  animals,  155-160 
Psychology,  22,  24,  32 

Qualities,  of  material  objects,  59 

—  primary  and  secondary,  64,  69,  72 

Realism,  objections  against,  63 
Reality,  possible  and  actual,  23 
Reasoning  must  end  somewhere,  103, 
220 

—  not  a  very  high  faculty,  102,  252 
Reason  not  invalidated  by  its  possible 

origin,  153 

—  to  be  confided  in,  318 
Recollection  and  reminiscence,  234 


INDEX 


327 


Reflection,  227,  228 

—  and  feeling,  12 
Reflex  action,  121 

—  consciousness,  138 
Relations,  91,  141 

—  apprehended,  12 

—  objective  ones,  54 
Relativity  of  knowledge,  279,  280 
Religion,  32 

Religions,  25 

Reminiscence  and  recollection,  234 

Remorse,  161 

Results,  no  ethical  test,  163 

Reverie,  146 

Revolving  cube,  59 

Romanes,  168,  172,  190,  192-194,  196, 

197,  202,  206 
Rontgen  rays,  43 

Root  of  thought  and  language,  211 
Roots  of  language,  210 

Sally  the  Chimpanzee,  174 
Savages'  language,  205,  206 
Sayce,  Professor,  .205 
Schelling,  41 

—  and  instinct,  319 
Scepticism,  absurdity  of,  219 
Science  and  language,  186 

—  has  advanced,  97 

—  intellectual  antecedents  of,  215 

—  is  measurement,  90 

—  its  objects,  34 

—  its  physical  antecedents,  108 

—  its  ultimate  groundwork,  321 

—  methods  of,  89 

—  physical  antecedents  of,  137 

—  what  it  is  ?  3 
Sciences,  enumeration  of,  16 
Science's  most  certain  truth,  317 
Sciences,  physical,  24-32 
Scientific  knowledge,  causes  of,  255 

—  observation,  93 
Self-evidence,  103,  104 

—  ground  of  certainty,  56,  221 

—  of  external  world,  46,  224 
Self-existence  known,  317 
Sensitivity  and  organic  world,  212 
Sensori-motor  action,  123,  131 
Sense  perceptions  of  animals,  155 
Sensuous  universals,  58 
Sentence,  analysis  of  one,  187 
Serial  symmetry,  286 
Shamming  death,  181 


Sign,  what  it  is,  150 

Significance  of  "  I  am,"  239 

Sitaris  beetle,  130 

Sleep-walking,  152 

Social  approbation  and  ethics,  163 

Sociology  of  intelligences,  25 

Solipsism,  40,  82,  83 

Sounds,  rational  and  articulate,  189 

—  ,  rational  but  not  articulate,  188 
Source  of  primary  principles  of  intel- 
ligence, 293 

Space,  307 
Speech,  189,  211 

—  and  reason,  211 

Spencer,  Mr.  Herbert,  and  causation, 

261 

Spencer's  great  law,  277 
Sphex  wasp,  128 
Spinoza,  40 
Stimuli,  117 

Structure  of  man's  body,  112 
Stupidity  of  animals,  169,  174,  177 
Subject  and  object,  236 

—  and  object  identified,  232,  238 
Symbols,  91-93 

Symmetry,  bilateral  and  serial,  285 

That  follows  how,  242 

"That,"  "what,"  and  "why,"  4,  76, 

87 

Theology,  25 

Therefore,  its  meaning,  252 
Thing  in  itself,  224 
Thought  curiously  undervalued,  253 

—  our  only  means  of  certainty,  253 
Thoughts,  7 

Three     categories     of     indispensable 

truths,  225 
Time,  307 

Tools  of  science,  309-311 
Transition    from   unconsciousness   to 

conscious  activities,  318 

—  from  unconsciousness  to  voluntary 

actions,  136 

Transitions  and  time,  213 
Trustworthiness  of  consciousness,  218 

—  of  memory,  233 
Truth  and  the  world,  101 

—  can  be  known,  74 

—  what  it  is,  99 

Truths,  indispensable,  three  categories 

of,  225 
Two  forms  of  memory,  234 


328 


INDEX 


Two  orders  of  mental  powers,  142 
Tylor,  Mr.,  205 

Ultimate  certainties  need  no  proof,  221 

—  criterion  of  truth,  14,  221-223,  225 

—  criterion  of  truths,  13,  14 

—  groundwork  of  science,  321 

—  teaching  of  nature,  319 
Uniformity  of  nature,  261 
Unimaginable  not  impossible,  84 
Unintellectual  language,  186 
Unity  of  man's  nature,  bifold,  317 
Universals,  6,  58,  61 

Universe  and  causation,  290 

—  as  a  whole,  289 


Universe,  is  it  infinite  ?  303 

—  not  due  to  natural  selection,  291 

-  the  possibilities  as  to  its  nature, 

312-314 

Unreason  not  cause  of  universe,  293 
Uranus,  50,  52 

Validity  of  inference,  102 

—  of  memory,  233 

Verbum,  mentale,  oris,  corporis,  189, 

209 

Vibrations,  69 
Vocal  language  proper,  189 

Waste  in  nature  non-existent,  319 


The  Science  Series 


Edited  by  Professor  J.  McKEEN  CATTELL,  Columbia  Uni- 
versity, with  the  cooperation  of  FRANK  EVERS  BEDDARD, 
F.R.S.,  in  Great  Britain. 

Each  volume  of  the  series  will  treat  some  department  of 
science  with  reference  to  the  most  recent  advances,  and  will 
be  contributed  by  an  author  of  acknowledged  authority. 
Every  'effort  will  be  made  to  maintain  the  standard  set  by  the 
first  volumes,  until  the  series  shall  represent  the  more  im- 
portant aspects  of  contemporary  science.  The  advance  of 
science  has  been  so  rapid,  and  its  place  in  modem  life  has 
become  so  dominant,  that  it  is  needful  to  revise  continually 
the  statement  of  its  results,  and  to  put  these  in  a  form  that  is 
intelligible  and  attractive.  The  man  of  science  can  himself 
be  a  specialist  in  one  department  only,  yet  it  is  necessary  for 
him  to  keep  abreast  of  scientific  progress  in  many  directions. 
The  results  of  modern  science  are  of  use  in  nearly  every  pro- 
fession and  calling,  and  are  an  essential  part  of  modern 
education  and  culture.  A  series  of  scientific  books,  such  as 
has  been  planned,  should  be  assured  of  a  wide  circulation, 
and  should  contribute  greatly  to  the  advance  and  diffusion  of 
scientific  knowledge. 

The  volumes  will  be  in  octavo  form,  and  will  be  fully  illus- 
trated in  so  far  as  the  subject-matter  calls  for  illustrations. 


G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS,  NEW  YORK  &  LONDON 


THE  SCIENCE  SERIES. 


(Volumes  ready,  in  press,  and  in  preparation.) 

The  Study  of  Man.     By  Professor  A.  C.  HADDON,   Royal  College  of 

Science,  Dublin. 

The  Groundwork   of  Science.      By    ST.    GEORGE    MIVART,    F.R.S. 
Rivers  of  North  America.     By  ISRAEL  C.  RUSSELL,  LL.D.,  Professor  of 

Geology  in  the  University  of  Michigan. 
The  Stars.     By  Professor  SIMON  NEWCOMB,  U.S.N.,  Nautical  Almanac 

Office,  and  Johns  Hopkins  University. 

Meteors  and  Comets.    By  Professor  C.  A.  YOUNG,  Princeton  University. 
The  Measurement  of  the  Earth.      By  Professor  T.  C.  MENDENHALL, 

Worcester  Polytechnic  Institute,  formerly  Superintendent  of  the  U.  S. 

Coast  and  Geodetic  Survey. 
Earth  Sculpture.      By  Professor  JAMES  GEIKIE,  F.R.S.,  University  of 

Edinburgh. 

Volcanoes.     By  T.  G.  BONNE Y,  F.R.S.,  University  College,  London. 
Earthquakes.     By  Major  C.  E.  BUTTON,  U.S.A. 
Physiography;  The  Forms  of  the  Land.     By  Professor  W.  M.  DAVIS, 

Harvard  University.  .;    • 

The  History  of  Science.     By  C.  S.  PEIRCE. 
General  Ethnography.     By  Professor  DANIEL  G.  BRINTON,  University 

of  Pennsylvania. 
Recent  Theories  of  Evolution.     By  J.    MARK  BALDWIN,   Princeton 

University. 

Whales.     By  F.  E.  BEDDARD,  F.R.S. ,  Zoological  Society,  London. 
The  Reproduction  of  Living  Beings.      By  Professor  MARCUS  HARTOG, 

Queen's  College,  Cork. 

Man  and  the  Higher  Apes.     By  Dr.  A.  KEITH,  F.R.C.S. 
Heredity.     By  J.  ARTHUR  THOMPSON,  School  of  Medicine,  Edinburgh. 
Life  Areas  of  North   America :  A   Study  in  the   Distribution  of 

Animals  and  Plants.     By  Dr.  C.  HART  MERRIAM,  Chief  of  the  Bio- 
logical Survey,  U.  S.  Department  of  Agriculture. 
Age,   Growth,   Sex,  and   Death.     By  Professor  CHARLES  S.  MINOT, 

Harvard  Medical  School. 
Bacteria.     Dr.  J.  H.  GLADSTONE. 
History  of  Botany.     Professor  A.  H.  GREEN. 
Planetary  Motion.     G.  W.  HILL. 
Infection  and  Immunity.  GEO.  M.  STERNBERG,  Surgeon-General   U.S.A. 


G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS,  NEW  YORK  &  LONDON 


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